Summary: Daryl finds Carol and struggles to confront his feelings when he's thought to have lost her. Set after 4x04 – Indifference.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/U: Happy belated Thanksgiving. Here's the next chapter for you. It could have been longer, but I found a nice stopping point before it became TOO long. This won't be a long story. I imagine 5 or 6 chapters max. I do better that way. Forewarning, I'm a little mellow dramatic in this one. So sue me. :)
Thank you everyone who has taken the time to like, follow or review what I've written so far. Your encouragement and support is what inspires me to keep going. I hope you all will enjoy what's next. Please let me know. I've read this chapter a million times by now, and I don't have a beta, so I apologize in advance for any errors you may find.
xxx
Found You
Several hours earlier ...
PART ONE
He couldn't explain it; the overwhelming sense of dread that threatened to suffocate him as the prison's high walls peaked up over the horizon. It looked different – empty – and as Daryl reached for the window handle, needing the cool breeze to settle his piqued nerves, he tried not to focus on all of the reasons as to why that could be. The window creaked from months of neglect as he turned the crank, parting the foggy piece of glass just enough so that the breeze could find him completely. With the other hand, he fingered the smooth, green stone and stared into it with purpose, his mind wandering back to the sick that took up most of A Block. He worried about the others all while trying to deny the fact that somewhere, deep down in the pit of his stomach, he was worried about Carol, too.
Michonne glanced at Daryl from the driver's seat, eyeing his movements with a wary eye while Bob and Tyreese continued to sit quietly in the back, oblivious to the uneasiness that radiated off the hunter's stealth frame. "You okay?" Her voice was deep and gruff as it bounced off the car's interior walls.
Daryl shrugged, "Jus' got a bad feeling, s'all."
"What kind of feeling?"
"Jus' feel like somethin's waiting for us on the other side of those gates," He motioned toward the prison, now fully within view.
Call it a premonition or some kind of jacked up version of a sixth sense, but she flashed before his eyes in that moment, vulnerable, crying and helplessly alone. The uneasiness in his gut intensified, and he gripped the green stone tighter. Hoping it would work its calming magic on him, Daryl shifted in his seat, suddenly all too anxious to have her there greeting him when they parked.
But she didn't.
Daryl noticed it as soon as he'd stepped out to meet them: the lag in Rick's step and how his body hunched over so slightly that anyone less observant would have never spotted the alarmingly obvious change in posture. He looked worn and tired, defeated, stopping to stand several feet away from them. And Daryl couldn't help but notice that, out of all the others, Rick avoided his gaze the most.
"Somethin' up?" Daryl asked, calling out the tension in the air, hoisting his gear and crossbow onto his shoulders.
Rick dug his hands in to his pocket and shrugged, "Not the right time." His eyes flickered to Tyreese, who was unloading a few bags of recovered medicine. And suddenly Daryl understood. It was about the murders.
"Go on in," He told the others. "I'll catch up."
They nodded, and Daryl watched Rick as Michonne, Bob and Tyreese worked diligently to clear the van of their supplies. He studied the man whose eyes trailed the others, concentrating on their steps and the sound of heavy feet scraping along tattered concrete, who continued to stare unblinking at the metal door leading into C Block long after they had disappeared behind it. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the man, who, during all this, never cast even a fleeting glance his way.
Rick cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot while refusing to meet Daryl's watchful gaze.
"How's everyone?" Daryl finally asked, uncomfortable by the thick silence and tension that had fallen between them.
"Good," Rick answered. "Think you made it back just in time."
"Good," Daryl's lips quirked as the relief began to calm him, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly to reveal just the hint of a relaxed smile. "Glad to hear it. Found some good stuff. Think Dr. S and Hershel will have everyone up an' walkin' around in no time."
Rick just nodded, the cloud of tension blanketing them again as Daryl's mind went back to the one person that had been the sole source of the uneasiness in his gut. "Hey, you seen Carol around?" His eyes scanned the yard, lifting his hand to shield them from the blinding sun. "Got something I wanna show 'er. Somethin' I found while we were out."
It wasn't how Rick chose not to answer his question immediately, or how he dropped his head to take in their shadows reflecting off the concrete that had Daryl's hyperactive mind imagining the worst. It was how in the minutes that stretched out between them, Rick refused to answer his question at all, like he was hiding from having to utter the words himself. It was all too painfully clear then that something had happened, and it had happened to her.
With the explanation dangling on the tip of Rick's tongue, Daryl realized then that he didn't want to know; that he wasn't ready to know.
"She inside?" Daryl asked, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here, away from Rick and the dread that threatened to choke him. "I'll just go find 'er."
He took a quick step to move around Rick, only to be halted in an instant by a firm hand planting itself against his chest. "Daryl," Rick said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion and uncertainly. It was in that moment that Rick finally looked up to meet his gaze, and Daryl had to look away, staring longingly at the same metal door to C Block that had captivated his friend's attention only moments ago. If he could just get to that door, get to his cell, get some time alone, he'd come back. He'd face this when he was ready. He wasn't ready.
Daryl tried to push against him, desperate for the comfort of his moldy cell, and Rick resisted. "Hold up a minute, would ya? There's something I need to tell you," He paused. "It's about Carol."
"No," He said, pushing his friend's hand off him. "Don't tell me, Rick. I don't want to know."
Rick cleared his throat, "You have to know."
The dread in his stomach bubbled up and coursed through him like ice in his veins. He took in a deep breath, hoping it would soothe his frayed nerves, turning his back to Rick and taking a few long strides back to the green minivan. With the hatch still open, Daryl shrugged off his gear and threw it into the van with a curse, his bow and rucksack slamming against the back seat and falling to the floor with a clatter. He braced himself against the bumper, doubling over and stretching his arms against the edge of the vehicle, taking the few moments to gather himself.
"She sick?" His voice cracked from his strain against the emotions coursing through him.
He didn't turn to look at Rick as his spoke, his gaze locked on the ragged carpeting of the back of their stolen beat up minivan. He couldn't. Because if he had, it was have been all too clear that having to remain here, having to hear what Rick needed to tell him because Rick thought it best, was killing him inside.
When Rick didn't answer immediately, he straightened himself and turned slowly. "Is she sick?"
Daryl tried not to react to the wide-eyed expression that marred Rick's face at this sight of his own, at the tears that reflected in the sunlight and the pain that radiated through the worry lines in his forehead as he struggled to brace himself for the worst.
"N-No," Rick said finally, his eyes taking in all of the man that stood before him. "No, Daryl, she's not sick."
Daryl looked down. "She dead?"
"We weren't sure how long it would be before you got back. We weren't sure how long the others could wait. So Carol and I went to this small town about 40 minutes out. We thought we'd scour a few houses, see what we could find that might hold everyone over in the mean time."
"She bit? She hurt?"
Rick shook his head. "No."
"She dead?" Daryl asked again.
"No."
Daryl expelled a heavy breath, falling back to sit on the edge of the minivan, his shoulders slumped in relief. "Fuck." He would have laughed if his nerves weren't standing on the edge with irritation. "Then what, Rick? Jesus. Spit it out, would ya?"
"She's gone."
