Bustle in the prison gradually ceased and everybody returned to their cells to get a bit of restless sleep.

Rick went outside to check on Daryl. He knew he wouldn't go out alone tonight. Despite his anger and stirred emotions, the hunter inside him would stop him from doing something so suicidal.

Rick bowed his shoulders. He knew his decision had been rational and right, but none of it seemed to ease the guilt he was feeling.

He looked at the man on the guard tower. Daryl's dark silhouette was leaning against the handrail and he was staring into the field.

Rick was aware that Daryl and Carol had grown closer since Sophia's dead. It still made him wonder as they were the least probable match he'd ever seen. Strong and weak, wild and calm, ill-mannered and forthcoming. But as impossible at it seemed, they'd somehow transformed their weaknesses into each other's strengths and their bond was genuine and unusually powerful.

Rick knew that after Merle's disappearance in Atlanta, it had been mainly Carol, who hadn't let Daryl seclude from the group. Daryl had soon proved to be an indispensable member of the group and had shown, under Carol's involuntary sight, that he was very different from his older brother.

Sometimes Rick wondered why Daryl had been so loyal to him. It had been him who'd cuffed his brother to the roof and had left him there. And now he'd lost Carol.

When he'd seen Daryl's haunted expression today it'd made him worried what would happen tomorrow. No matter how much that thought hurt, he wasn't naive to believe Carol could possibly make it. If she'd been the one binding Daryl with this group, what would happen when she was gone? Was he going to leave with his brother again, leaving them all to face the Governor alone?

Rick sighed and returned back to the prison. Tomorrow would show.

Daryl knew he was not going to get any sleep tonight. He was afraid what he could see if he closed his eyes. Stooped tiny body, sore grey arms stretching out to him, unseeing eyes that had turned the color from beautiful gentle blue into foggy shade.

Daryl had never felt so empty. When he'd seen only Rick and Merle getting out of car, everything had stopped. He'd felt sweat trickling down the side of his face but hadn't been able to raise his hand and wipe it away. He'd felt like his body hadn't belonged to him. His brain had been coming out with hundreds of reasons why she hadn't been with them, but he'd refused to face the most obvious one.

He'd failed her again. He should have stopped her from going, he'd felt something would have screwed up. She had been so obsessed with the group's greater good that she'd underestimated the danger she had been getting herself into. He should have known better. He shouldn't have counted on anyone else to protect her.

He desperately kicked the metal post hoping that pain would make him feel better. He should have done so much more but he'd acted like a two year old and had got pissed at her instead. On top of that he'd been nasty to her just before they'd left. He kept failing her over and over again. He'd already got one chance when he'd found her in the abandoned cell after walkers' attack during which they'd lost T-Dog. Daryl didn't consider himself God's favorite to get this chance again.

He shut his eyes tightly, curled a fist into the ball and hit the metal wall with all his strength. The stinging pain didn't help at all. He felt a sob forming in his chest. He spat on the ground. Fuck it, Dixons never cry.

The morning was cloudy and fully corresponded with everybody's mood. When Rick, Merle and Rick went outside, Daryl was already waiting by his bike.

Rick's heart dropped when he saw how shattered Daryl looked. Dark bags under his eyes clearly showed he hadn't got any sleep. Daryl didn't say a word, got on his bike and drove out. They followed him.

When they reached the town, they parked at same spot as Rick had yesterday. Daryl took his crossbow and started walking towards the wood in the stony silence. Glen looked at Rick hesitantly. Rick just shrugged and pointed in Dary's direction.

"What if Carol is…," Glen was obviously not thrilled by the idea of following Daryl.

"Then it's not her anymore and ya'll take her down kid," Merle growled.

The wood was quiet. It seemed that most of the walkers were already gone. Daryl clearly saw the spot where Merle and Rick were standing; the grass was still slightly flattened.

Daryl's jaw hardened when he found Carol's tracks. Soon he picked up the gun he'd given her. She'd been alone, armed with just a knife and eight bullets from the other gun. His imagination was throwing him pictures he didn't want to see. He crouched and laid his forehead against his knee for a while. He tried to gather the strength to continue.

Soon he reached the creek and checked two walker bodies lying on the bank. It was not her, but it was definitely Carol who killed them. The hope, he was so desperately trying to hold back, flared up with a new strength.

He quickly followed her footprints. He could see she'd been hurt and exhausted. His stomach twisted when he saw eight bodies lying in front of him. He stopped and drew in a shaky breath. This was it. He heard Rick, Glen and Merle far behind him.

He slowly checked all bodies. Eight bullets, eight bodies. If he didn't feel like shit, he would have even smiled. The woman had become a great shot.

Daryl looked around confused. Where had she gone? Had other walkers got her eventually after this fight? He was perplexed as there were not footsteps leading from here.

Then he saw it. Daryl couldn't believe his eyes and before he could think what he was doing he was climbing up the tree. By the time he reached the bottom of the tree-house, his heart was beating fast. He swung over the edge and stopped in the middle of his movement. He gave out muffled laugh and felt he was losing control over his limbs again. He quickly climbed on the platform. Carol seemed to be unconscious and laid on the wooden floor, curled in the fetal position.

Daryl carefully lifted her from the floor and drew her close to him. She was breathing steadily. Carol was covered in walkers' blood, bruised and sore all over but apart from that she seemed all right. She was alive.

Daryl instinctively tugged her closer to him and tried to compose his features. He couldn't believe he was holding her in his arms alive. He was one lucky son of a bitch.

He gently stroked her arm.

"Hey lady, time to wake up."

So she must have been finally dead, Carol thought. She heard Daryl's voice and the floor was not so hard and cold anymore. But she still hurt. She stirred disgruntledly.

"Hey…easy."

She wrinkled her head in confusion. There shouldn't have been so much pain after you died, she thought.

Then she felt a rough hand softly caressing her cheek.

Her eyelids flattered, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself looking into Daryl's face. A tiny smile formed in the corner of her mouth.

"Finally…nap's over, let's go home," he said but didn't seem to be willing to let her out of his arms.

His voice was unusually thick with emotions and Carol eyed him curiously. Her heart sank when she saw the state he was in. He was a mess. She must have scared the hell out of him.

She squeezed his arm.

"What happened with 'don't expect me to run after you if something fucks up'?" her throat was dry and sore but she chuckled.

Daryl shook his head.

"Woman, ya are gonna listen to every single word I say from now on. If not, I'm gonna tie ya to the bed once and for all."

Carol shrugged: "Didn't know you liked it this way but I don't mind."

Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh.

"Jesus, one would think ya should have other things on mind after survivin' this hell."

Daryl helped her to sit up but still held her tightly. She sighed, curled her head under his chin and finally relaxed. He hadn't given up on her. She felt the tears in her eyes. It had always been Daryl.