If Tomorrow Wasn't Such a Long Time

Takes place during sporadic moments in the series. The general plot will revolve around the episode of "The Killer Within" and progressively afterward, however, I wanted to start off after "Beside the Dying Fire" to establish some sort of timeline for the events that are in Chapter 1.

A lot of this is Daryl's thoughts on Carol and what brought him to care so much for Carol. Kind of wanted to do somewhat of a character analysis on him in the context of thought processes and his interactions with members of the group. If you like, please let me know. Any suggestions would also be welcome as far as my structuring. Sometimes I can go overboard and not realize that I've done something stupid. Not to mention I haven't written anything in YEARS. Please, enjoy.

Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Chapter 1

Everything had happened so fast. He'd felt his stomach drop and his heart tense as he saw the little girl stumble out of the barn, hands jerking up to shield the sun from her pale lifeless eyes. He could hear Carol scream for Sophia and felt himself drop his shotgun to grab her before she could get near the girl. He'd held her close as they fell to their knees in the dirt. Carol reached out for Sophia but Daryl held her in his arms; a protective arm wound across her chest his thumb gently rubbing her shoulder. Every so often he caught himself glancing over towards the reanimated Sophia, but quickly averting his eyes elsewhere. It was hard to watch the girl stagger towards the group, a ravenous machine. It was a constant reminder that he was never going to be good enough for anyone.

A loud bang echoed. Only sobbing filled the almost permeable atmosphere. The smoke trailed from Rick's gun and Sophia lay on the ground. It was over. Daryl knew he could never have had the will to shoot the girl himself. It would have been ironic and almost cruel if it had been him to end her pathetic existence as one of those monsters.

Daryl could feel Carol shiver and collapse further into the dirt. Her fists clenched as she repeated: No, no, Sophia, my baby, my Sophia. This was barely audible even to Daryl whom was within breathing distance of her. Daryl loosened his grip on the woman and eased himself to rest his head against her back. He could feel her body trembling with sobs. He blinked back his shame and glowered into Carol's back; her crying being a reminder that he hadn't done well enough by her to prevent it.

"C'mon... Don't look." Daryl grunted.

He'd finally found his legs and tried to stand pulling the crying Carol with him. She'd jerked away from him as he had helped her up trying to remove her from the grotesque massacre that lay at their feet. Carol thrashed from his hold and stormed off back to the RV. Daryl shrugged her reaction away. The woman had lost her daughter, yet somehow he felt partly responsible.

"She's going to be just fine." He'd told her.

He felt like a liar. She hadn't been fine. He'd been out in the woods searching for a ghost the entire time. Gouged himself with one of his bolts after having been thrown from a horse down a ravine and clipped on his temple by a stray bullet in the process. His fingers flew to his waist and thumbed the fresh bandage through his shirt. None of those pains mattered now. The doll he had found washed up on the river bank nor the bedding in the abandoned farm house he had thought been hers. None of it.

He had failed. And it stung.

They had already lost so much thus far, but finding Sophia... That had been a beast all of its own. Everyone had been counting on her safe return and here Daryl was empty handed with nothing to show for his efforts but a tattered old doll. He hated to admit defeat but that was all he could do, Shane had been right.

Daryl suddenly was brought back to the situation at hand. He realized where he was and everything felt tense. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into him. Their eyes: lifeless and cold. Daryl began to tremble from their accusing looks. Everyone's attention on him as if a spotlight had been set on him. He felt like he was tucking his tail between his legs as he backed away from them.

"Your fault..." He could hear them say.

"I was out there every single day. I kept looking for her." He spat out. He could feel himself start to bristle at the thought of being accused of her becoming a walker.

"I tried!" He cried, starting to pace back and forth like a caged animal. His fists clenching and unclenching with each pace.

Daryl could feel a sharp kick to the heel of his boot which thrust him from his sleep. He quickly jerked to a sitting position, knife clutched in his hand prepared for the sudden awakening. Rick stood over him and quickly gestured for him to calm down and lower the knife. Daryl could feel the hot beads of sweat dripping down his temples and absently wiped them away. Another nightmare.

"Sorry, you were thrashing about." Rick said as he crouched before him. Daryl's eyes roved over Rick carefully. He could see the tired in his eyes from the traveling they'd been doing. Gray hairs peppered Rick's dark hair and beard and he wondered if the pressure of being the "leader" was starting to take its toll on him. He kept that observation to himself. Rick looked weathered and exhausted. Granted he was just the same: cheeks gaunt, his body sore and lean from starvation, thoughts in a constant flurry at all times, and his temper all the sharper.

"Was it about Sophia?" Rick asked keeping his voice low and out of earshot of any of the other group members. Daryl's eyes shot up to meet Rick's. Their gazes didn't falter.

Rick studied Daryl with weary eyes. He could see Daryl chewing his bottom lip. A nervous habit of his that he had noticed. He wasn't sure if it was just a defense mechanism to prevent Daryl from saying something foolish or a habit he had acquired because he wasn't sure what the proper response was for the situation. He could tell that confrontation or any remote closeness to another person was still something foreign to Daryl even after he had been incorporated into the group as a vital member. Daryl was as wild as they came but loyal if given the opportunity and he had taken it.

Rick looked to his hands and tried to remove some of the dirt from beneath his nails. "You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened, Daryl. You did all that you could. Carol knows that. Hell, you almost died looking for her daughter."

Daryl stopped his nervous habit and averted his eyes away from Rick. His guts felt twisted like he couldn't relax. Everything just seemed to be at arms' length of hope.

"It's my fault. I'm not near as good a tracker as Merle. He woulda found her." Daryl huffed, his brows furrowing at the mention of his brothers' feats. Everything he knew about tracking or hunting had been learned from Merle. Those were the only things Daryl had cared to learn from Merle. He was nothing like his older brother besides his sharp attitude and immediate distrust of most people. A survivor's instinct burned inside of him and was unlikely to be snuffed out.

Rick adjusted from his crouched position to a kneel, head hung low. "That may be so, but Merle wasn't here." He paused and looked at Daryl. "You were. And you did what you could. You found her doll-"

"A doll!" He hissed. Daryl could feel his anger beginning to surge. "I found a ratty old doll. But not her!"

Daryl's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. He had become so defensive over the doll when Shane had brought up the thing, yet here he was reiterating how foolish he had been then; now using it as a retaliation. A mere doll was supposed to be the predictor of whether the girl had been alive or dead? He shook his head and began to stare at the grease rag that lay sprawled on the floor from his pocket.

Rick let out a long sigh. He was becoming frustrated with trying to comfort the younger man. "Daryl, what am I supposed to tell you? That all this was your fault? That she ended up in the barn because you aren't an expert tracker like your brother? No... This was my fault. I shouldn't have left her by the water. I made the wrong call. What happened to her..." Rick paused. "That was all me. She was pleading with me not to go, but I knew for us to survive it had to be me trekking those walkers away from her. But that wasn't enough and she was bit..."

Daryl could feel Rick's eyes focus on him again: studying him for a reaction. Daryl tensed. He felt like he was being scrutinized for some reason, but only assumed. Rick was somewhat apologizing for what had happened, but this should have been meant for Carol and not him.

"S'pose so," was all Daryl could mutter back in response. His fingers swirling the rag in the dirt.

Rick acknowledged his response and nodded in quick agreement. "Alright then. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Daryl watched as Rick stood up and made his way back to the camp. He had been keeping to himself away from the group. Setting up his tent just a little ways from everyone so as not to be disturbed or disturb anyone when he would leave to go hunting at the break of dawn. His thoughts were still askew but he felt like he'd received a bit more closure than he had been anticipating. And it seemed about time to sweep things under the rug for now. Today was a new day and there was no knowing if he would see tomorrow.

The sun was beginning to creep over the canopy of trees in the distance and Daryl took this as a sign that it was time for some hunting before they ventured out on the open road with nothing in their bellies. Everyone would be getting up soon and he wanted to be back with some sort of kill ready to be cooked.

He stalked by a few sleeping bodies near the camp fire, crossbow slung over his shoulder and buck knife tucked into its sheath at his hip. He heard a small cough and stopped where he was, looking to the source of the noise. Carol sat a few feet away from the fire sweater hugged tightly to her body.

Daryl tipped his head to her, acknowledging her presence and continued to make his way out of camp.

"Hunting?" She asked.

Daryl stopped once more. "Yeah." He drawled. He was getting a little impatient. Sunlight was starting to creep further. "I'll be back later." She shivered a bit. Without hesitation Daryl removed the horse blanket from his quiver and held it out to her. Carol's gaze moved slowly to the blanket. He shook it at her as if to say, "Take the damned thing or I'll change my mind."

She took it and shrugged it around her shoulders. A smile crept onto her lips. "What?" he quipped, adjusting his weight to one leg, hand to his hip in a questionable manner. Her gaze went back to the fire.

"Be safe, Daryl." She said never looking back at him. Her gaze focused on the burning coals that the small fire licked up from. She must have been tending to it most of the night, he reckoned, seeing that it still had yet to die.

Her words rattled inside his head. "Be safe, Daryl." It soothed and eased his thoughts a bit as if she had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He shook his head, ridding himself of the question as to why she'd smile like that.

"Yes'm", he replied and crept quietly out of the camp.