Imagine a light so bright it stung your eyes even when they're closed. Shadows played off the light, making Daryl's head throb even more. His bones ached and the sharp pain in his back made him clench his teeth. "Don't move," a familiar voice settled him as he tried to block the light from his eyes. His mouth was to dry to talk, but he managed to get the words he needed out. "Carol?"
"Shh," She whispered, placing a hand on his arm. "You're hurt."
"So are you." Daryl put a hand above the blood stain on her pants, his eyes meeting the one on her arm. "Is this it?"
"I don't know," Carol whispered. Her shaky voice sounded broken and weathered. "I don't want you to die. I don't know if I believe in god anymore or heaven, but if I'm going to hell," Carol paused, shaking her head. She hugged her arms around her knees and took a shaky breath. "I am not taking you with me." Daryl looked at her sitting next to him, watching her eyes fought the welling tears. "We ain't dead yet. You ain't dead."
"Maybe I should be," Carol gave him a weak smile and looked down. "Maybe I want to be."
"But you ain't," Daryl said, putting all his strength behind it. He was left in an uncomfortable silence. "Are you?" Carol remained still, her head down, knuckles white as she gripped her wrist around her legs. He suddenly felt sick. In his focus on revenge, he had neglected her again. He had too many questions for her, but before he could ask something caught his eye. He carefully lifted his head and looked down at Carol's feet. Growing through the white ground, seeming as though the frail stem had grown from her, sprouted a delicate white flower. "Cherokee rose," the words rolled off Daryl's tongue as he felt himself beginning to fade once again. As his head met the ground Carol unfolded herself and lay down beside him, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "Where a mother's tears fell."
"We ain't dead yet." Daryl said quietly and though he knew Carol didn't agree, she didn't argue with him as always.