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Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.
Carol watched Rick drive away feeling oddly hollow. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to do when she had confessed to killing the two sickest of the group. Maybe she had thought he would understand why she had done it. After all, hadn't he been forced to make similarly difficult choices since the turn for the good of the group. The grey haired woman refused to believe the tall man's words however, there was at least one person at the prison who would be genuinely upset that she didn't return with their leader and the medicine. And she knew she couldn't just leave him alone, so she took the supplies Rick had left her and found a car, her direction already chosen.
Daryl simply couldn't process what the former sheriff was telling him. How could Carol not come back? She had been a constant since the very beginning, flitting around the edges of the group like he had, but she had somehow managed to intertwine herself seamlessly until she was the very backbone of their community. He had envied her that ability, not even realizing she had drawn him in with her until most people looked to him as some kind of lieutenant, second only to Rick. The gray haired woman was practically family to every single one of the survivors, even the newest Woodbury refuges and there was no way she had just accepted the banishment and left.
He skulked away from the bustle of the prison like a wounded animal, into the warren of tunnels where the sounds of life didn't reach. The crushing pain in his chest was foreign and the hunter tried to ignore it, but as he wandered the hallways, he finally admitted that despite all of his efforts, he had gotten attached. Once he accepted that Carol had held a special place in his heart, the regret crawled up his spine like some kind of iron monkey hanging a crushing weight off his back. He should have known he would run out of time to work up the courage to respond to her teasing. Should have believed that she was actually flirting with him rather than just treating him like everyone else. And even if he had been shot down, at least he would have tried. Now it was just too late.
Being alone out there was a death sentence, he knew that better than most. It didn't matter how strong someone was, or how capable they were, in the end it came down to luck just as much as skill. Eventually that would run out, even for her despite the way they had joked about her having nine lives like a cat. Suddenly the hunter realized where his feet had taken him. There was the door behind which he had found Carol, exhausted and dehydrated, but still blessedly alive. He pulled open the heavy iron door and looked at the tiny solitary confinement cell. She had been claustrophobic before the end of the world and sitting alone in the small room without even a gleam of light, just waiting to die had to have been torture. And to think he had believed he had gotten the short end of the deal.
The hunter knew he should have said something to her after he thought he had lost her that time. That should have been enough of a wake-up call, but he had been the coward Merle had always accused him of being, unwilling to risk damaging the only real friendship he had ever had. Rage bubbled up from under the stunned numbness. She would have been better off dying in this room because he would have done the right thing and ended her. Now it was inevitable that she would turn and become one of the walking dead with no one around to stop her.
He knew the thought of turning and hurting someone was one of her greatest fears after Ed was no longer a concern and Sophia was past worrying about. Unable to keep the fury inside him, Daryl screamed and ripped into the thin mattress with his bare hands, throwing stuffing and shredded sheets to the floor before looking for anything else to destroy, but the room was barren. As quickly as he had started, he stopped, shoulders slumped in defeat. None of it mattered any more. All of them were a part of the walking dead, they just didn't know it yet.
Hours after he had disappeared, Daryl wandered back into the inhabited sections of the prison. No one met his eyes, either too sick to recognize him or obviously having heard the news and he sneered at nothing. It had occurred to him to go after the older woman, but the chances of finding her were slim to none after the number of hours that had already passed. Besides, he couldn't leave the prison undefended and without a hunter. The good of the many and all that.
The bowman snorted to himself. Knowing Carol, that was exactly why she had offed the two sick ones. She had probably thought to end the sickness before it spread, and save them the agony of dying slowly. Hell, they might even have asked her to do it. Not that it mattered, they wouldn't have survived long enough to get the medicine anyways. But that didn't stop the sour roiling in his stomach that he knew was grief exacerbated by the inability to do anything, compounded by his own emotional stuntedness. He just hoped that Rick stayed out of his way until he had a chance to come to terms.
Daryl threw himself down on the bottom bunk of the cell he had shared with the gray haired woman, already missing all the small things about sharing a space with her. The way her scent filled the room just as effectively as her quiet humming, and the effortless warmth she brought to the cell. He had never really considered anywhere to be home, not since his ma had died, but now that Carol was gone, the rough man realized just how comfortable she had made him. His skin crawled with pent up energy and he almost wished the Governor would show up so he could take his frustration out on something. Maybe he would take an extra watch or walk the fence to keep the walkers down. But before he could heave himself out of the bed, exhaustion pulled him down into a fitful sleep.
Uninterested in listening to everyone complain when there was no hot breakfast, Daryl scooped up his crossbow and bag and went hunting. He was no fit company for people and he might as well bring back what meat he could seeing as how Maggie couldn't cook venison without burning half of it. However, he was distracted. Just the thought of seeing Rick Holier-Than-Thou Grimes put him in a murderous mood. Every tree, bush, and bird call reminded him of the trips he had taken Carol along on, teaching her what he could about moving quietly and reading a trail and navigating without landmarks. The hunter had even considered teaching her how to use the bow, until he realized he would have to correct her posture and that meant getting a lot closer than he was usually comfortable with. A hundred what-ifs convinced him it was a terrible idea and how that was one less tool she would be familiar with to survive with now. Daryl figured he might as well have signed her death warrant himself.
Still unwilling to return to the prison, Daryl roasted a rabbit over a small fire for his supper and just existed. The forest was good for that at least. He didn't have to worry about interpersonal interactions, or rules, or anything else. Open air and trees had always made him feel just a little bit cleaner inside, even when he knew he never actually would be. Daryl stared out into the night, listening for anything drawn by his fire, wondering if Carol had made it out of town or if she had already been killed. Neither option really appealed to the bowman so he just stared at the small fire, trying to keep his mind silent even as it twisted and cried out for the older woman.
Author's commentary: I was deeply disappointed in how Daryl reacted to Carol's banishment in the show, so I guess I've got a lot of different ideas on how it could go. At the very least, Daryl would have been a hell of a lot more upset at Rick than the show displayed. It was like she didn't even matter to him at all and that's a dirty lie.