He leaned his head up against the filthy wall, pounding the knife in his hand on the concrete floor. It was Hers. Carol's. The knife he'd found wedged into the neck of the giant man. Only it wasn't man, it was something else. No one knew what made humans turn into those things. Not even the youngest Dixon brother had an answer.
Daryl had stopped asking questions long ago though. He knew there was no cure to the disease, if it could even be called that. After that day when Shane opened the doors to the barn and Sofia stumbled out, he'd lost all hope of ever regaining their old lives back. Though he hadn't realized it, a part of him had died that day. A piece he didn't know existed. Daryl spent day after day silently comforting the devastated mother. Sitting on the counter of the RV while she gazed out the window. He gave her the space she needed, but also made sure she knew he was there for her.
He never dared to care about anyone before the world ended. But for some unknown reason, Daryl had let his guard down for her. Sure he cared about his brother, but he was blood. His love for Merle was unconditional. It didn't matter how many times he screwed up, Daryl would be right by his side to defend him. But Carols and his relationship was opposite. No matter how many times he told her to get lost, or he blew up in her face she didnt give up on him. Daryl guessed she believed sometime, sooner or later he would let her in. Carol cared for him when everyone else didn't.
Daryl didn't understand their relationship at most times. They would joke around many times but she never pushed it too far and Carol didn't crave his sexual attention like most women would. Their relationship was much deeper than what Daryl could grasp.
He didn't believe she was gone though. When he found her tattered scarf the day before, not once did he think she wasn't alive. She was too strong to die like that. Carol didn't know her own strength, but he did. He watched in awe as she overcame everything that was thrown at her. She braved every beating her bastard of a husband gave her, Carol grieved through the loss of her only daughter and Daryl knew he would find her and she would come through this.
He couldn't just sit there anymore. He brought her knife to his forehead and slammed the blade into the wall a few more times. Daryl abruptly stood up. He began pacing up and down the halls of the Tombs, trying to think of where he had not searched yet. Only a section of the prison had been cleared out and Daryl had gone through most of it already. He was running out of places to look. A door to his right slightly moved, budging every so often. He'd seen it move a few times while sitting across from the door but he hadn't bothered killing the walker that was trapped inside by a collapsed inmate lying outside of it. As he paced faster the metal door moved more.
Daryl growled, becoming more and more agitated at the hungry walker inside. He grunted as he lifted the big walker blocking the door. Throwing it aside, he clutched Carol's knife in his hand, ready to slam it into the skull. He swung open the door and almost dropped her knife.
Inside the small room and propped up against the wall was the woman he was searching for. Relief flooded through his system, threatening to send him into shock. A tired smile reached her lips as she recognized the familiar face. Carol was covered in dirt, blood, and sweat but nevertheless, she was still beautiful. Daryl returned her smile and leaned down to place a hand underneath her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his blue ones. He gently picked her up with one arm cradling her back as the other was holding her legs. He was careful not to move her too much, afraid she had broken a few bones.
Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off to sleep in his strong arms. She was finally able to rest now that she was found. He would carry her out of the tombs and into safety.
Carol was given another chance in this new world, because the Dixon never gave up on her.