Part I of III: To Give

He saw her with a dull knife and her orange headscarf, sitting on the cement floor of her cell, carefully tearing into the fabric with care. That headscarf brought back memories of her that he locked away and seeing her handling it made him annoyed but curious.

"What are you doin'?" he asked softly. It was the middle of the night and he'd just come off watch. He figured he'd get some sleep but seeing as Carol was the only one up he could at least keep her company for a bit.

She looked up with tired eyes but the smile on her lips was reassuring for him. She still managed to have some sort of happiness no matter their living situation or the time of day.

"Trying to cut this in half," she answered before going back to her work.

"I see that," he grumbled, taking a seat on her neatly made bed. "But why?"

"Wanted to make something," she said. She held up the fabric with the tear in the middle, holding it up to the small bit of moonlight and examined her work. "I'm not very crafty but I just wanted to make something for us."

"Us?" Daryl was taken back.

Carol took the two halves again and separated them with a quick movement, causing a satisfying and clean riiiiiiiiip to sound through the cell block. Sighing in relief, Carol took one of the pieces and folded it in on itself lengthwise, making a long rope with it. She did the same with the other, pressing down each crease strongly. She took the smaller of the two and wrapped it around her wrist like some sort of bracelet, trying the end with a secure knot. With the other piece she scooted over to Daryl and held out her hand, silently asking for his own wrist.

"What's this for?" Daryl demanded to know. He gave Carol his wrist anyways but had no idea what she was doing. She'd ripped apart her favorite, albeit only, scarf just to wrap it on his arm?

"Kind of like a friendship bracelet," Carol explained as she tied the fabric. "So we'll have something of each other."

Daryl snorted. "Ain't like this could remind you of me. It's your scarf."

"Yeah," Carol nodded with a laugh. "But I'll remember you have the other half."

Daryl went silent at that point, taking note of Carol's change of tone. Quickly they went from laughing to serious. He thought he could appease her with this, it wasn't much to ask of him, but it meant more to her than he thought.

She wanted him to have something to remember her by and her of him. She was trying to make memories for them in case…

"We ain't dyin' any time soon," Daryl said to her.

Looking up, Carol said, "We both aren't fool enough to think that, Daryl."

"We've been survivin', we got food and ammo and walls, we're—"

"A war is coming," Carol interrupted him. "And I know you're afraid. I'm afraid. But war or not, death is the only thing certain of this life. Whether it's tomorrow or years from now, I don't want to keep going without making memories for us. This," she motioned to their matching bracelets. "Is just one of them. I'm just giving you a memory by giving you this."

Daryl tore his eyes from Carol's and looked down to his wrist. He twisted it around, noticing that it wouldn't affect him handling his crossbow or guns or anything, and let it be.

"All Merle's gonna give me is shit for wearing something this color," he said in a joking tone. But he wasn't joking at all. Merle would do exactly that and joke about the lady that gave it to him.

"We could always get some dirt on it, try to mask the color," Carol suggested. She'd taken a seat beside him now and fluffed her very flat pillow.

"Nah, don't matter," Daryl shrugged. "Hell, I like it. More important to have as it is. It's a memory, right?"

Carol smiled, blushed, and looked down to her own wrist. "It is. I'm glad you like it."