A/N: Just a little thing I wrote post 4.03 (and obviously pre-4.04). Enjoy!
xxxx
She'd been fine, while they were gone. But she'd feared their return. Not for Tyreese. She'd accept his anger, accept his hate, even. If he never spoke to her again for the rest of their lives, she would be alright. That was part of her bargain, when she'd made her choice. She would say her piece and move on, and accept however they thought of her. She had her reasons, just like they all did.
But when the four came back, she didn't move to greet them. She wasn't hiding, but she also wasn't seeking. They could come to her, if they wanted to. But dinnertime came and went and still, she sat. The metal frame dug into her hamstrings but she clenched her jaw and kept her feet resolutely planted on the floor.
Carol didn't like being a coward.
The footsteps came up the stairs sometime after sunset. They were soft, tentative. He knew.
And his outline filled the doorway.
"Rick?" he asked.
She nodded, gaze fixed on the opposite wall. Cracks in the cinderblock danced along the walls, weaving their way across the cell.
"You just told him?"
She shot a glance towards him, hovering in the doorway. His stance was a question, arms crossed and brow creased. But she couldn't meet his gaze or answer his stare, so she looked at his boots instead. And she hated how they looked so comfortable and worn, how they gripped the ground tight, like he'd never fall off the earth.
She shook her head. Whether he could see it in the dark, she didn't know.
She didn't like him there, in the doorway. He could either get in or get out.
If she inhaled strongly and deeply enough she could swear they were moving, there on the wall. And when she squinted they looked like veins, taking the useless blood away from her and towards the heart of the prison.
She'd never noticed all those cracks before.
"Carol?"
Her own name sounded foreign, rolling off his tongue. It brought her back to the little cell. Her room. Her home.
"No."
From the doorway, Daryl nodded. Drew his eyebrows in close together. Carol looked up to him for the first time, and saw the thoughts racing behind his eyes. In or out.
On the wall above the doorway, the cracks watched over him. They were probably falling onto her from the ceiling, too. She hadn't gazed upwards in a long time.
She closed her eyes and counted to three. Before she could open them, she felt the mattress sag beside her.
"He just knew."
Carol opened her eyes and turned to look at his. It was another question he knew the answer to already.
She nodded again. Of course Rick knew. It made sense, thinking back on it. That Rick would know first. And he'd made it easier on her. Sometimes asking the question was harder than answering it.
Daryl nodded and chewed at his lower lip.
"Daryl, I don't know what Rick told you but-"
"Stop."
She did.
"Rick didn't tell me anything. Just said he knew who it was." He paused, watched her expression. "Said he needed to tell me first. Before anyone else."
Carol nodded, pursed her lips. The tears were there, waiting to burst through.
"He never actually said your name."
She could feel her chest constricting and shot him a glance, his gaze catching hers with equal intensity. She shouldn't have been surprised.
But the darkness fell on the prison like a blanket, and while the daylight gave her power, the darkness gave her doubts. She was only human.
Beside her on the bed, Daryl clenched one of his hands into a fist. The other he reached out and rested on her knee, brushed his thumb along the seam.
"I'm not gonna let you…" He trailed off, eyes wandering elsewhere.
"I was afraid you would," she admitted honestly.
His expression was hurt, but only for a second. He nodded and turned his palm to face upwards, an invitation, an agreement. She took it, and held on tight. It was warm, and it was daylight.
"I'm not gonna let you fall through the cracks."
Her chest was wound tightly, but she could breathe. It was an ache in the heart, of relief and of hope.
She shouldn't have doubted he was in. Always in.