Hi guys! I wanted to keep writing my new story "Guiding star on the horizon" but after seeing the premiere last week, I had to write this one-shot. I hope you'll enjoy it and hopefully I will be able to focus on the "Guiding star" now.

My thanks go to all my followers and readers and especially those, who have left a review. I really appreciate it and thank you so much for your time, you make this ride so much worthy!

This one is also for love4twd, whose devotion to TWD and endless Caryl energy keeps me going:)

This one is of course Caryl, you've been warned.

Daryl Dixon had lived through hell. Long-term abuse and mistreatment had made him callous, hardship had made him strong and raw experience of being abandoned by everybody he'd ever cared about made him mistrustful and belligerent.

His first girl had broken up with him after three months of being together, slapping his face and yelling at him that he'd been a mean son of a bitch. He hadn't objected this allegation, she'd been right.

Daryl Dixon hadn't known how to act nice, hadn't had any role model he could have looked up to. The only kind-hearted person in his life had been his mother, who'd always chosen to caress him rather then hit him if she'd been sober enough to get up from bed. But she'd burnt down together with the shithole they'd called their home when Daryl was seven.

Daryl Dixon had never pitied himself. The brutal reality he'd been raised in was a part of him, had shaped him into the person he was now. He'd been taking the life as it'd been coming his way and he'd never really questioned it and hadn't wasted his time contemplating over the things he couldn't have changed. He'd never expected anything from the world and made sure that the world had never expected anything from him.

But even throughout the roughest years, he'd always been aware of unfaltering feeling deep in his guts, which kept him going. He'd always known that he would survive. No matter what shit he would have to face, he would break through.

But the feeling was gone now. When he was fighting his way through never-ending hordes of the dead, getting more and more desperate with each tired stab of his bloodied knife, feeling the numbness creeping into his limbs, he realized he didn't know if he would outlive this.

When Bob's high-pitched screams resonated in his ears, he turned around to see the man being mauled to death within a few gruesome moments. Daryl swallowed sour bile in his throat at the sound of torn flesh and broken bones. It was the first time Daryl Dixon seriously conceded he could die today.

Daryl Dixon hated goodbyes. He'd always felt there was something too definite in this gesture. Subtle preparation for hurt that could be coming, careful foreplay for the pain the person would cause by not coming back. It'd had taken him until now to realize what else the goodbye held.

But he hated not saying goodbye to her. He flinched when he remembered his posture, haughty above sentimental fretting, which accompanied their departure. He couldn't stand that he'd missed his chance to talk to her, to touch her. He'd barely looked at her, giving her a curt nod as he always did, ignoring the wavering step she'd taken towards him with her arm outstretched. He desperately tried to force out the last memory of her face. Beautiful blue eyes clouding with confusion and then hurt, her concerned gaze dropping to her feet, arm loosely falling back to her side when he'd quickly walked away. Disappointment and hurt, it was all Carol Peletier would remember from their last encounter.

Daryl Dixon suddenly knew beyond all questions that he wanted to live. With exhausted gasp he buried his knife into walker's skull and pushed away another one. He knew he wanted to see her again. He wanted to feel that long gaze of her blue piercing eyes and he was willing to let her tease him blatantly and not to be embarrassed by his pathetic inability to come up with smart and prompt answer.

He wanted to sit on the bunk next to her, close enough for their shoulders to touch and he wanted to smell a whiff of her lavender shampoo she used and which he never forgot to throw into his backpack on the run.

He wished the nights were cold enough for her to snuggle closer to him in involuntary attempt to get warmer during their night talks.

He kept stabbing around himself wildly, getting more and more frustrated with every importunate memory of things he would miss out.

He wanted to ask her how she'd managed to do this to him. How she'd found a part of him she could admire and clung to it despite all the hurt, nasty words and temper storms he'd inflicted on her.

He wanted to know how she'd taught him to trust again, how she'd taught him to believe in himself, in people around him and most importantly in her. He wondered where she'd found the strength to recast her weakness and frailty into steel determination, how she's used her kindness to beat his aggression and anxiety.

And at this very moment Daryl Dixon knew he wanted to come back home to her. And he was sure as hell he wanted to live.

Carol tried hard to listen to Beth's talking about Jude's progress but her eyes were constantly drifting to the gate. They should have been back a few hours ago. Woodbury was no more than thirty miles away, it hadn't supposed to be a difficult run and they should have been back by now. From the corner of her eye she saw Rick and Karen, both edgy and not really paying attention to whatever they were doing.

Finally Carol gave up, apologized to Beth, took her machete and went over to the gate. She wanted to be the first one to spot their car; she wanted to be the first one to sigh in relief upon seeing Daryl behind the steering wheel. But the horizon was still calm, there were no clouds of dust churned by approaching car.

"They will be OK...right?" Carol turned, watching Karen as she was slowly walking toward her, her arms folded on her chest.

Carol tried to smile encouragingly but her own concern turned her smile into crooked grimace. She'd come to like Karen. She'd fit into the group easily, worked hard and Carol could easily attach to never fading sadness in her big dark eyes as only mothers who had lost their children could.

"Tyreese told me he would get a Noah's photo for me from our house," Karen's voice croaked, "I just told him to stay safe."

Carol sighed and tried to suppress bitter disappointment. She hadn't even a chance to tell Daryl as much.

Karen could sense Carol's frame of mind and looked at her sympathetically.

"Daryl's just…well Daryl. He cares about you and you know that. He's never going to be the public type of guy Tyreese is but it doesn't mean a thing. I bet he makes it up to you every time you two are out of sight," Karen smirked trying to enlighten the mood.

But Carol's frown only deepened.

Daryl felt he couldn't fight much longer. He already didn't feel his right hand but the number of walkers wasn't getting any smaller. He could hear the swishing sounds of Michonne's katana accompanied by her muffled cries somewhere on his right.

"Ain't gonna make it this way!" he tried to shout over walker's growling and hoped Michonne could hear him, "we ain't far from Woodbury, gotta get from this mob, walk to Woodbury and get a new car!"

Daryl jumped back as rotten jaws clapped just inches from his face. In the next moment the walker's head split in two and Michonne struggled to free her sword. She looked like hell and Daryl could tell she wasn't going to last too long either. But she'd heard him.

"What if they are not coming back?" with every passing minute Karen was getting more and more restless and now she was pacing along the gate.

Carol stood frozen in one spot glancing up to Rick who was up in the watch tower now, scanning the horizon for any sign of their friends.

"I've never told him how…how much he helped me after Noah's death, how much he means to me…," doleful tone in Karen's face forced Carol to tear her eyes off the tree line and she placed her hand on younger woman's shoulder.

"They will be all right Karen, don't give up on them," Carol whispered urgently.

Karen searched her face intently, noticing a muscle twitching in Carol's jaw and her big blue eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"You haven't told him anything either," Karen sighed watching single tear rolling down Carol's cheek.

Daryl and Michonne turned sharply left and they were fighting side by side to get deeper into the wood and out of the hungry mob. Daryl could swear they were almost through when Michonne tripped over nothing and tumbled down. Daryl swore under his breath, reached down and yanked her up.

"Come on Samurai, ain't got time for that, we are almost through!"

Michonne shook her head.

"We need a camouflage, I can't fight anymore, can't take down more of those bastards."

With these words she gutted the walker closest to them.

Daryl grimaced as the contents of Walker's abdominal poured out to his feet.

"Dig in Dixon, this one's yours."

By the time they saw Woodbury barricade, they were supporting each other, dragging their feet behind them. Their camouflage worked quite well but it was drizzling and they were sweating so some of the walkers were still after them and they had to kill them.

They got inside and Michonne leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

"Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath…"

Daryl was exhausted to death but his desire to get back to prison before sunset still pumped some adrenaline into his bloodstream. He watched Michonne with concern.

"Ya stay here, I'll get the antibiotics we need and then we can look around for some car and go back…Tyreese could still make it. Ya stay here OK?"

Michonne just nodded not bothering to open her eyes.

Daryl opened the door into small pharmacy carefully and sighed in relief. It seemed to be clear. He stepped in and started throwing into his backpack everything he could find. He had almost all shelves cleared when a hungry growl behind froze him to the spot.

He turned around sharply to be faced with a dozen of hungry walkers. He had no idea how they'd got there unnoticed but as the first one lunged himself at him, he put thinking aside. He'd just killed the fifth one and started retreat when he found himself surrounded by six others. Other walkers were pouring in through open doors.

Daryl groaned in frustration and he pulled out his gun. One last bullet. One last bullet he'd saved for himself when he saw Bob's death. He squeezed his eyes shut and unlocked the safety. He was shaking badly from exhaustion and he wasn't able to tell if the wetness he felt on his cheeks were tears or sweat.

Suddenly one of the walkers grabbed his arm and yanked it back. Blinding pain paralyzed him and Daryl screamed as he felt his shoulder coming out of its socket. The last memory that flashed through Daryl Dixon's head was sparkling blue eyes silently pleading him to come back.

Sorry for the cliffhanger! I promise to have the second part uploaded by tomorrow!