Okay, I couldn't resist posting the next chapter! Just… try not to kill me, okay?

Trigger Warning: Allusion to suicide

Recommended Song: "Don't Speak" by No Doubt

With one final tug, Daryl removed the hatchet from the walker's head before falling to the ground.

"DARYL!" Carol ran across the field, stumbling over fallen walkers as her feet slid in the newly fallen snow. "God, no! No, oh god, no!"

She fell to her knees beside him, her eyes taking in the damage. Blood covered him like a second skin, his own mixing with that of the walkers he had taken down to save them. There was a bite to the left thigh, another on the right arm, but he was still breathing. His breaths came hard and fast, but he was still alive.

"Daryl?!"

His eyes fluttered open.

"It's okay, darlin'. We're gonna take care of you, fix you right up." Her eyes darted around the field, looking for help. "RICK! Bring Hershel! He's hurt!"

The sheriff was already a step ahead, running across the field with Hershel and Glenn at his heels. "Move him into the barn," Hershel ordered. "Get him out of this snow."

"Ain't gonna do no good," Daryl muttered.

Carol turned to face her husband. "You hush that talk," she said, stroking his face as she fought back her tears. "It's not so bad."

Daryl's eyes began to droop. "S'worse."

Rick and Glenn swooped in from behind, grabbing their fallen comrade under the arms. "S'alright, brother," Rick assured him. "We gotcha."

Together, the men picked Daryl up and began walking swiftly to the barn, leaving Carol kneeling in the bloody snow. For a moment, she was helpless, unsure what to do to help. Her fingers found Daryl's fallen crossbow. Without thinking, she picked it up and followed the men into the barn. Daryl would want to know it was safe.

She found the men in the alley of the barn, debating where to lay Daryl. "Put him in the drive bay," Hershel decided. "There's more room to work there. Glenn, I need you and Rick to bring me all the light you can. Open that window for now, but I'll need lanterns-"

"Ain't gonna do no good," Daryl repeated. "Wastin' time."

"I know we ain't done a double amputation yet," Rick began as they laid Daryl down in the floor, "but I know Hershel-"

Daryl didn't speak, instead using his left arm to reach down and lift the side of his shirt. "Waste'a time, bro."

Carol watched the color drained from Rick's face as his jaw went slack. He looked from Hershel to Glenn. Their horrified faces mirrored his own. Rick turned towards Hershel, his mouth moving soundlessly. Hershel shook his head. Carol took a hesitant step closer and peered between their shoulders.

A third bite.

A gasp from behind the men caught their attention. Carol leaned against the support beam with a hand pressed against her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs that shook her body. Daryl lifted his head. "Aw, hell..."

Carol took a shaky step forward, but her legs had turned against her. Rick and Glen dove forward to catch her. "Daryl... Oh, god, Daryl!"

The men helped her kneel beside her husband as she reached for him wildly. Her tears flowed openly as repressed sobs shook her body. Daryl reached for her with his one good arm, pulling her to him. She laid her face against his chest and held him close, ignoring the blood that stained her face.

Rick took Glenn by the elbow, leading him away from the scene as Hershel followed. Carol looked up at the sudden movement. "Wait! Where are you going?! You have to help him!"

Rick paused, looking over his shoulder at her. His brow creased as he tried to find something, anything to say. There were no words, only the last remaining minutes of a life cut terribly short. He closed his mouth as he turned to walk away in silence.

"You can't leave him like this! Come back!"

A hand rested on Carol's arm. "Hey." Carol's eyes darted back to Daryl, who was regarding her with distant affection. "Y'can't fix this... not this time."

She pulled her arm away from him. "The hell I can't," she murmured, pulling his poncho over her head. She pulled Daryl's hunting knife from the sheath on his leg and began cutting the poncho into strips.

"That ain't gonna work and you know it."

Carol didn't respond as she began tying one of the strips as a tourniquet around his thigh. Another larger one went over the wound. "The artery's been nicked," she said flatly. "If I had something to clamp it with..."

Daryl didn't reply, but gazed distantly at a place over her shoulder. A gasp escaped her lips as she took his face into her hands. His skin was pale, clammy and cool to the touch. Her hand went to his neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. It was there, but only just, fast and faint beneath her fingers.

"Daryl?!"

His eyes came back into focus as his head turned to face her. He lifted his hand, reaching for her. She grasped his hand tightly as fresh tears filled her eyes. His fingers tightened slightly against her own. "Y'gotta knock this shit off," he murmured. "Get your ass back in the house where it's warm."

She shook her head. "No. My place is right here with you."

"Got more'n jus' me to think about." His eyes drifted down to her abdomen. "Ain't no good ever come of a half-froze peanut."

Her eyes widened. "How did you-"

"Li'l stuff. Stories you told Maggie. Hell, woman... known you the better part'a five years."

Carol couldn't contain a smile despite her tears. "You can't leave us… Who will teach him to hunt?"

Daryl's eyes began to close. "Girl," he muttered.

"What?"

"S'girl."

"Then teach her to hunt! I don't care what you do, just don't leave us!"

"Wan'n't no good for nobody," he continued, his voice becoming little more than a whisper. "Always trouble... leavin' y'like this... no good."

Carol took his head into her arms. "Hush, darlin'," she sniffled. "You're every bit as good as the others. You did right by us."

"Never said..."

His wife leaned closer to him. "Daryl, don't..."

"Never said..." His breath was slowing, becoming deeper as he fought for each breath.

"Don't speak, darlin'. Save your breath."

Daryl opened his eyes one last time. "...loved ya."

Carol hugged his head to her. "I love you, too," she choked.

He didn't reply as his gaze became fixed just beyond her arm. His breaths became uneven, slowing until they became staggering gasps for air. Then as suddenly as it all began, Daryl Dixon took his last breath.

xoxoxo

Time passed. Minutes, hours, days, weeks… It was all the same to Carol as she clung to Daryl's lifeless body. Each tear that fell on his face left trails in the grime on his cheeks. She found herself wiping at the spots, hoping for one last glimpse of the face she once knew.

"Carol?"

She looked up as Andrea entered the drive bay, tears glistening in her own eyes as she looked down at Daryl's lifeless body. She knelt beside Carol, wrapping her arms around her. The grieving widow buried her bloodstained face in the warm shoulder of the parka, but her arms never released Daryl. "He's dead," she cried. "Oh, God, he's dead!"

Andrea held her close as her own tears began to fall. "I couldn't believe it," she whispered. "Not even coming from Rick, I just couldn't believe it. I never thought… never dreamed… He was gonna outlive us all."

Carol nodded as she turned to face her husband. "He died to save me… but I couldn't save him."

"None of us could. We tried like hell, but he got swarmed…" A sob shook the younger woman's body. "He was the best friend I ever had."

A long silence filled the barn as the women shared their grief. Carol's hand wrapped around Daryl's, stroking his ringless finger. True to his word, he was not one to stand on ceremony or impractical jewelry, but he managed to find hers a week after their private ceremony. She remembered waking up one morning with its unfamiliar weight on her finger. He never mentioned it, and neither did she. Instead, she gave him a peck on the cheek at breakfast as they exchanged knowing smiles.

"Carol?" Andrea's voice broke the spell of her reverie. "Do you… Do you want one of us to do it? When the time comes?"

Carol wiped her eyes with one hand as she sat up. "I'll do it," she sniffled. "He's my husband."

Andrea nodded as she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulling out her Ladysmith. She sat the gun beside Carol. "If you need anything… anything at all…"

"Thank you," Carol whispered as the blonde rose to her feet. "Thank you all. For everything."

She watched as Andrea left the barn before turning her attention back to Daryl. His once tanned skin had gone gray, making him look like a stranger to her. His eyes were closed, but she was sure they had already turned from the beautiful shade of sky blue to the colorless eyes of the undead. It was a sight she could live a thousand lifetimes without seeing.

Without warning, there was movement. It was so faint, Carol would have missed it had she not been watching. She leaned forward slowly, watching as Daryl's chest rose and fell with a haggard breath. "Daryl?" she gasped.

Beside her, a single finger twitched.

Carol gasped as she backed away, dropping his head unceremoniously to the floor. She watched in horror as her husband's body began to take life once more, his breaths coming more steadily with each passing moment. His lips, once warm and affectionate against her own, began to part as a low growl escaped them.

She began to whimper softly as she backed away, her hand desperately searching the floor for Andrea's gun. "No, no, please, no," she whispered.

Her fingers grazed a familiar string. Daryl's crossbow laid forgotten by the support beam, still covered in a dusting of snow. Her fingers clasped the stock, dragging it across the floor and into her lap. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled back the cable, locking it into place. One bolt remained in the quiver, more than enough for what needed done.

With the bolt secured, Carol rose to her feet. By now, Daryl's body had started coming to life, his hands and feet twitching aimlessly as his growls became more audible. Any moment, his eyes would open, lifeless and cold, no different from the ones that littered the fields around the barn. They would never watch the world around them with rapt attention, never become ablaze with fury when he was angry… and never gaze at her with every ounce of love he could give.

Carefully, Carol raised the crossbow to her shoulder. She lined up the shot through the sight, but aiming seemed almost pointless. He was nearly point-blank at this range. Fresh tears began to roll down her face. "Forgive me," she whispered, then pulled the trigger.

Daryl's body went limp as the bolt protruded from his skull. His eyes never opened.

Carol knelt beside him once more. She took his hand back into her own. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry… You'd have done the same for me."

With her free hand, she reached beside her and picked up Andrea's Ladysmith. "I was never strong like you… could never be as strong as you. Please forgive me."

With one final breath, Carol raised the gun to her head.

*ducks* Please don't kill me! There's still five more chapters to go! This was actually where my original idea ended, but thanks to Lexcade, my "alternate ending" turned into the rest of the story.

A special thanks to Lilmstoughstuff for inspiring the "he's my husband" moment.