When Carol looked back, sleeping outside, back straight up, in the cold harshness that blanketed them was a bad idea.
Her bones—already frail from lack of healthy nutrition—ached when she woke up the next morning; her back slowly popping each of the vertebrae as she stood. Daryl was missing, but that had no reason to frighten her. She assumed he was watching guard near the sleeping unit or showering. Drowning himself in his thoughts and a storm of cold rain.
Carol yawned, cringed (she was still unused to the repetitive sour taste lingering on her taste buds), and ambled up the stairs to the corridors where everyone else slept. Judging by the sliver of the sun peeping through the horizon, it was still early and everybody would still be asleep.
She was proven correct as she found her way to the group with another creak of the shoulders. Gosh, she sounded old, with her screaming bones.
The group Carl had found in the depths of the jail was huddled together like birds, the teenage boy named Ben shaking against the arms of their seemed leader, Tyreese.
Poor kid.
Carol climbed the stairs to approach Rick, who, instead of Daryl, was patrolling the unit. He noticed her with a nod of the head and she returned the gesture with a modest smile. "Been up late?" she asked, folding her arms across her arms again.
Rick nodded, inhaled sharply. "With Daryl sleeping outside and these… newcomers locked away, somebody needed to keep an eye out." The corners of Rick's mouth turned up; despite the smile, he looked exhausted. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and he paused a lot while speaking. "Need to protect Judith and Carl."
"Sorry I wasn't—well, there to take care of Judith. Got distracted last night."
"No, you don't need to, Carol. When I got in, Beth and Hershel were feeding her; she's fine." Rick yawned. "Is Daryl up yet? It was his shift about two hours ago. If he's… unsatisfactory, I can keep going, but—"
Carol's eyebrows furrowed together, lips pursed. "You haven't seen him?"
Rick shook his head.
"I—I thought he went to take a shower or something. He wasn't there when I woke up, so I could assume he was showering or guarding."
"I didn't see him go to the showers. Look, Carol, maybe he just needs some time alone. What happened to him—it got to him," Rick drawled as he stifled a yawn. "He needs to let some steam loose. Give him the day, he'll be back before the sun sets."
Carol nodded. She still wasn't keen on the idea of just waiting for Daryl to show up; last time he'd disappeared for the day he'd been dehydrated, stabbed with an arrow, and shot in the head.
Daryl wasn't the luckiest of men.
"I'll just go… shower. If I see him I'll let you know when I get back."
Rick agreed, leaning on the railing.
"And Rick?" Carol started as she descended the stairs. Rick turned to look at her. "Get some sleep, I'll cover you."
Daryl heaved through the forest, crossbow thrown onto his back and Carol's knife clenched tightly in his right hand. He didn't bother to hide from the couplet of walkers in front of him—instead, he ran full-fledged at them, arm poised to strike. Tears cascaded down his grimy cheeks, left snail tracks against the dirty skin.
The tears, for once, didn't bother him.
The stench didn't bother him.
The sweat filtering from every pore didn't bother him.
Nothing did.
He drove the knife into the walker's crown; its head split down the middle, rotten stench filling the air. The other was alerted, snarling and waving a handless arm to Daryl.
Fucking geeks.
Daryl slammed it to the ground. His breaths were jagged as he bashed its head in with his foot.
Blood leaked onto his shoes.
Carol ran long fingers through her cropped hair, massaging her scalp in the lukewarm water. She hummed a peaceful hymn that echoed over the drizzle of the shower.
Despite the serene surrounding, her heart beat wouldn't settle.
Out of the group, the person she considered herself closest to was Daryl. She was friends with everyone else, talked about their previous lives and stories, but Daryl was the person she found herself drawn to. Eyes lingering after him, never ending praises spilling out of her mouth. He aided her in the attempt to find Sophia. They'd bonded with similar backgrounds—late nights were spent with Carol reminiscing about Ed and their past to Daryl. He listened, but didn't talk about his own.
He was there when she had broken down. He was there to talk to her, and she wished to be that same counselor with him.
Plus, she knew him.
She knew he was an independent man; albeit last night, Daryl would prefer to be by himself. He wasn't alone, but he was a loner.
And he'd be back.
Carol's eyes opened to the flow of water dribbling to an end, but she didn't step out of the barracks. Her breaths became slower, more relaxed.
He'd be back.
She dressed quickly in a worn tank top and khakis, making her way back to Rick and the group. Rick sighed a breath of relief when he noticed her, head raised high as he found the cell Carl rested in. Carol smiled and took his position on the deck. The cell directly behind her consisted of Glenn and Maggie; Glenn's face was cleaner, although swollen. Hershel must've fixed him up.
She heard Rick's snoring come almost immediately.
Once again, she was alone with her thoughts.
Daryl hissed at the pain the knife brought—he'd been a complete dipshit and pocketed the knife into his jeans the wrong way. Blade jutting outward, handle hidden in the depths of the denim. Naturally, he'd shoved his hand in, only to react quickly and discover a bleeding gash on his palm.
It wasn't as bad as previous incidents.
He had stampeded through the forest at an alarming rate: he'd left the prison nearly three hours ago and was completely drenched in sweat, a good couple of miles further than what would've been covered if he were walking.
The walkers he had encountered hadn't had much of a say; he simply ripped Carol's knife through their eye socket or jaw and they fell with a heavy thud to the muddy ground.
His shoes were bloody. His shirt was filthy, and his jeans were torn.
Daryl was a mess.
With each stab of a walker, he did it for Merle.
Merle was an asshole, but he was his brother. He risked himself to save Daryl's ass—which, to be completely honest, confused the living hell out of Daryl—and they had just left.
The tears from earlier had stopped flowing, but the anger was pounding in his head. Resounding all around him until Daryl could feel the heat reverberating off his skin. White hot flames danced in his vision. More walkers approached him.
Daryl stood his ground. Fingered the knife out of his pocket and wiped the continuous flow of blood onto his shorts.
He waited.
When one got close enough, he held it back at shoulder's distance with his injured hand and killed it.
Daryl was going back to Woodbury.
He ignored the pain that rippled through his palm.
"Ms. Carol?"
Carol snapped her neck up from the cooing Judith she bounced on her lap. The day had passed unsuccessfully—Daryl was still missing. Axel had been admitted to the cell (with approval by Rick) and advanced with his flirtatious suggestions ("How 'bout we… go back up to the tower?" "My, I sure get cold sleepin' by myself."). Hershel was scavenging to find more medicines to give Glenn. Beth currently stood in front of her, eyes wide and fair hair curled around her ears.
It was almost astounding how she managed to look like an angel even in the worst of conditions.
"I was wondering if I could feed Judith? She hasn't eaten for a while and, well, I was just wondering—" Beth trailed off, smile lingering on her lips. "I have the formula in the bottle and ready."
"Of course you can, dear. Just let me…" Carol stood and handed Judith to Beth once she was sitting down. "And there you go!"
Judith sucked on the bottle hungrily.
Carol grinned at the scene and paraded to Rick, who was confronting Tyreese's group without a sense of caution. Carol intervened during, "You want us to move the mother?" and pulled him away before Ben began protesting.
"Daryl's not back yet."
Rick ran a hand through his hair, scratched his head. "Carol, I know, but—"
"Rick, we need to look for him. Daryl's—when he's angry, he's not completely… he doesn't think things through. He acts on instinct; it's what had gotten him through his childhood. He's not in the vicinity of the prison; when you… disappeared, we knew you were around here so we let you be. But Daryl isn't here, Rick." Carol's voice was hushed, fingers drumming hastily against her hips.
"It's too late to leave now. We don't wanna be out at night."
"We'll leave as soon as the sun rises, then."
"Carol, Daryl's strong." Rick knew he was lying to himself; he'd seen how Daryl had acted back in Woodbury when he discovered the chance that Merle may be there. He'd seen the look in his eyes, the determination he had to see his brother.
"If it was Lori, we'd be searching day and night for her, Rick," Carol retorted, but immediately regretted her decision. Guilt swelled in her throat. "Oh, gosh, Rick, I didn't mean—"
But Rick's eyes had fixed on a point above Carol's head. He nodded slowly, shoulders rising as he inhaled deeply. "You're right.
"We'll leave in the morning."