What Angels Look Like
Exhaustion pulls at her limbs, its persistent hands trying to drag through the cold concrete floor.
It's dark and it's cramped and it's so, so cold.
But Carol is alive, and that's more than can be said for some.
The thought of T-Dog throwing himself against the two Walkers, pinning them to the wall even as their teeth and nails gouged at his flesh made her empty stomach heave, but she doesn't have enough strength to do much more than screw her eyes tight shut and wait until the Walkers outside go away now that she's lost her knife.
She's not sure how long it is before she hears their voices.
She's not sure if they're real.
Carol pushes at the door, but there's something heavy preventing her from opening it more than an inch or so. She pushes again, mechanically repeating the process until Daryl's voice rings out right on the other side of the door.
He says something about a weak Walker trapped inside.
No she tries to say, but the words can't seem to find their way to her lips, no, not a Walker; it's me. Open the door. Please open the door somebody pleasepleaseplease.
Nobody opens the door.
They keep walking, keep talking, and she pushes at the door one more time - open up – but nothing happens.
She drifts into unconsciousness.
She doesn't dream as such, but she thinks she hears Sophia's voice, or at least a memory of it.
Mom, what do angels look like?
I'm not sure, sweetheart. What do you think?
I don't know... will you tell me? If you see one, will you tell me what they look like?
Carol thinks that she might die here in this closet.
She thinks that she might already be dead.
She can hear someone moving when she fights the dark beneath her eyelids to reveal yet more darkness. There's a little ray of light sneaking in through the gap between the doors. The movement outside makes her heart quicken – still alive, then - because it doesn't sound like a Walker. It's the dull thud of something connecting deliberately with the floor, the wall, and she can hear soft, ragged, distinctly human breathing. She pushes at the door because it's really now or never, and then person on the other side is moving and pacing and there's a huge bang when they kick the door violently closed. Carol's ears are ringing, but she pushes the door again – please help me, I'm in here - praying for it to swing open.
The footsteps scuff across the concrete, receding down the passageway, and she gives the door one last shove. There's a moment of silence followed by a rush of movement from the other side of the door as whatever dead weight was barricading the door is thrown aside and then harsh light floods her tiny hiding space.
Oh.
The door is open.
Relief floods her body and the exhaustion seems to loosen its grip. Carol summons some hidden bit of strength and raises her head just high enough to squint at who has found her.
She sees blue eyes glowing bright in a face stained with dirt and blood and anger.
Daryl.
The way the light catches strands of his messy, dirty hair and radiates all around him, she can't help but think with some small part of her mind that he looks like an angel. An angel with her knife clenched in his fist like he was planning to stab something with it.
The ferocity slips from his face as she blinks wearily up at him, her eyes still unadjusted to the light, and Daryl drops to his knees beside her. One hand clumsily catches her chin when she starts to let her head sink down towards her chest, and turns her face towards him again. He looks at her like she's some kind of miracle.
She gives him her best attempt at a smile even as her eyelids sink, blacking out the world. He scoops her carefully up into his arms, cradling her like she's no more weight to him than a rag doll, and starts to make his way down the hall.
Carol breathes in the scent of sweat and blood as her head falls against his chest and her last thought is that she can tell Sophia one day – she knows what angels look like.
A/N: Like leaving reviews? Why not leave one just here! It'll make me super happy (: Is the mid-season finale still killing anyone else. Gyah, so much drama!