It was quiet inside the prison that morning. Not in a peaceful way, either. It was unnervingly, annoyingly silent. The kind of silence that preludes jump scares in horror movies. Judith had finally fallen asleep after an age of screaming and tears that seemingly nothing could appease, leaving an eerie silence clinging to the air. Tension had settled deep into everyone's bones, and they all sat around like rubber bands poised to snap. The exception was Axel, who bounced around whistling some unrecognizable tune with shaky, uneven breaths. It seemed the thought of the danger that Rick and the rest of their group could have faced—could be facing at that moment—either didn't faze him or it hadn't even crossed his mind. He was oblivious like that.
Carol sat at the perch—Daryl's perch—and observed the vistas below. The weather had been moody lately—almost bipolar—and, whereas the previous day it had been sunny and clear, the sky was grey and dreary. Several bulky thunderheads, almost charcoal in colour, rolled their way above the horizon, far over the bushy treetops. Carol eyes followed the high metal fence and its silver loops. She knew it was a lot sturdier than it looked, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy as she watched several walkers trying to fight their way past the barrier by leaning, hanging and tugging at the wiring. Carol fought between watching them closely and averting her gaze entirely. Eventually she resolved to focus on something else. She was already worried enough.
She was surveying the horizon when she first noticed it. Something fairly large travelling at a hasty speed was headed straight for the prison. Carol snapped to attention, jumping to her feet and straining to get a better look. It was a light green hunk of machinery that was very obviously a car. And as it rumbled closer and closer, gravel and broken pebbles crunched under its wheels and sent sputtering in every direction, Carol realized it wasn't a car—it was their car.
"They're back!" she cried, her pale pink lips spreading into a teeth-baring smile.
Carol had spoken the two words that everybody had been waiting in agony to hear. She watched the car only long enough to see a side door pop open and Maggie climb out—to open the gate, most likely, since nobody was on watch—before she bolted towards the back door of the prison. It was a matter of seconds before Carl and Beth were at her heels rejoicing and Hershel hobbling a bit behind, trying to keep up with the able-bodied youngsters on his crutches.
They flung the door open and filtered sunlight poured in, despite the fact that the sun itself was hiding its face. It made them realize how dark the prison truly was. How they'd practically been living in the shadows for the past week. By the time they'd all squeezed through the narrow doorway, the car was already parked in front of the entrance and the passengers were spilling out. Carl yelled his father's name, rushing towards him and embracing him. Carol followed, sandwiching the boy in between their grimily-clothed bodies as tears prickled her eyes. She said nothing. Actions spoke louder than words.
Then she turned to face Maggie, who was wrapped tight in her little sister's arms. Beth was bawling and telling Maggie how much she'd missed her and how worried she'd been. When Maggie finally managed to worm her way out of Beth's strangling grip, she threw her arms around her father, Hershel. It was an awkward hug, since Hershel had to keep his fingers firmly clutched to the handles of his crutches, but it was sweet nonetheless. They were reunited, and the greatest feeling in the world is to hold your loved ones close because you know they're safe. But as the blissful chaos died down, Carol noticed that there were only four people standing before them. They were missing two people. Oscar, one of the prisoners who, along with Axel, had joined their group the fateful day the herd invaded, was nowhere to be seen. And although he'd done alright by Carol, they'd barely exchanged nods. She hadn't been close enough to him to truly feel the sting of his loss. But there was still another person that was missing: Daryl. He was gone.
"D-Daryl? Where…where is he?" Carol stuttered, trying to make sense of the scene before her. Rick was safe. Glenn was safe. Maggie was safe. That strange girl Michonne was safe. But Oscar wasn't there, and neither was Daryl. Her stomach twisted, her knees went soft and wobbly, and for a moment she forgot to breathe. They were dead. He was dead. Daryl Dixon was dead. Or he would be soon. Joy turned to sorrow. Sorrow turned to anguish. Rick approached her. His eyes said it all. He rested his hand on her shoulder as she covered his mouth. Tears tumbled down her cheeks, dropping to her feet. The trails cleansed her face of dirt, leaving wet paths. They burned. Rick hung his head.
"Carol…" Rick began, and for a man that always knew what to say, he had been caught in a rare moment when no words would come to him. Daryl had been like a brother to Rick: the kind of brother that was also your best friend. The kind of brother that would stand up for you in the schoolyard even if the bully towered a good head above him, and wouldn't even regret it a bit when he got punched square in the jaw. Rick pulled Carol in closely.
"I will find him. I'll get him back." he told her very surely, very slowly, very softly. "Don't you think for a minute I won't. But as for the moment, it's too dangerous. They're expecting us, and if we leave, we might not come back. Now Daryl…he's with his brother. And Merle might be an asshole to everyone else, but he won't let anything happen to Daryl. He's gonna be just fine."
But Rick's words meant nothing. Carol had learned long ago that words were of little reliance. No matter how many times Daryl told her he'd find Sophia and that she'd be just fine, she still died—not once, but twice. No matter how many Cherokee roses sprouted up, in the end they meant nothing. Rick could tell her a hundred times Daryl would be fine, but that wouldn't change his fate or save his life. It would just mean Carol had more empty hopes to cling to.
The next two days that followed seemed to drip by. They stretched on like eternity for Carol. And when one endures an eternity, they often have time to think. And so Carol thought. She didn't move from her perch. She kept Daryl's poncho resting over her shoulders. She scarcely nibbled at anything Rick brought her. Every night he'd try to get her to sleep. But sleep didn't come easy, for when Carol closed her eyes, her mind painted vivid images of Daryl. Sometimes he was dead. His broken body would be sprawled out onto the Woodbury pavement, a puddle of blood under his head and blank, sightless eyes staring up at the sky. She'd never visited the town, but in her nightmares it was a place of horror and pain.
Other times, he'd be suffering. In Carol's dreams, the Governor was a hulk of a man with cold eyes and a slit for a mouth that was set in stone, forever grimacing. Emotion never flickered across his lips. She'd watch, powerless, as the Governor stabbed and jabbed at the soft skin under Daryl's dirt-lined fingernails. She'd listen to his agonized screams as the Governor demanded information. But Daryl wouldn't succumb to the torture. He was determined. Strong-willed. And he'd do anything to keep his group safe.
But the worst dream happened on the third night. Carol had just drifted off to the steady drizzle of rain pounding against the prison roof. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, like a giant singing a lullaby, gentle despite his size. That night, Carol dreamt of Daryl's return. He showed up at the back door, smiling, and she remembered that distinct feeling of unbridled happiness fluttering in her stomach. She threw her arms around him, and much to her surprise he returned the gesture, despite the fact that everyone knew Daryl hated hugs. And then, when she woke up that morning breathing softly, feeling strangely refreshed, she wondered where Daryl was. Feeding Judith, maybe? No. His poncho was still snug around her shoulders. She was still lying on his blankets, on his perch. He wasn't back. He hadn't hugged her. And that hurt most of all.