He was grieving.

It was as simple as that.

He was both happy and unhappy with the sudden cluster of people at the prison. They needed a bigger group, it was good for them, but he felt closed in and trapped. He used hunting as his outlet, but at the beginning of it, that was not so-

Because he hadn't had a moment to stop and grieve with everything that had gone on.

And then it had hit him hard, that Merle was dead, and Merle was gone and never coming back. He would turn to say something to him, try to make a rude call for his name when he walked in, but no one was there to accept those things. He began to grow depressed, not even feeling the want to hunt- luckily they had food stored in the prison. Rick seemed to want to say something but no one did. They just let him move in with Carol, the only one who understood, in the same cell and curl up on the bottom bunk, sleep as long as he wanted.

And boy, did he sleep.

He didn't want to get up.

The loss was a sting, his last blood kin torn away.

Nobody had ever seen him this bad before. He couldn't let himself feel it and cry on the outside after he had put his brother's walker out of its misery, but inside he felt hollow, sullen, the motivation to do anything gone.

They let him grieve- he had sacrificed himself over and over in the past few weeks and deserved a break.

But as the weeks passed, they began to worry. He rarely left his cell, taking to the bed most. Carol was the only one who could talk to him about it.

One evening, she roused him, brushing his hair behind his ear, murmuring, "Daryl, it's time to get up. You've had your time. Come see your family... Come outside with me tomorrow. You'll start feeling better..."

She was gentle in her tone, soothing and sympathetic, in that light way that wouldn't offend him. He was silent, so she whispered as she offered her hand, "At least come to dinner. Please. One step at a time."

He couldn't deny her, couldn't turn her down. As much as he wanted to, he was enraptured. He rolled over, his hair ruffled. His hair was much longer now, shaggy and down below the back of his neck. He stood slowly, brushing his clothes off. Most of them hadn't seen him for quite a while. She smoothed his hair and he leaned into her touch- she could see the faintest glint of light in his cobalt eyes. She leaned in, kissing his cheek, and he put his hand over the one on his cheek, heaving a sigh.

He drew in close, relishing her silent understanding, his lips brushing her forehead as a silent sign of gratitude. Actions were all she needed from him, offering her hand again. Their fingers interlaced, his gripping hers tightly, and she walked out into the hall.

Daryl followed at her heels, releasing her hand slowly but giving her an uncertain look. He swallowed, inhaling deeply and taking in his surroundings, stepping into the soft moonlight as he crossed the threshold into the cafeteria.

His family all turned their heads. Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Rick, all of them. Rick smiled at him, and Glenn spoke up softly, "The man of the hour... Welcome back, buddy."

He breathed in the air that had the savory musk of fresh food. His lips upturned just a little, shuffling to their table. Everyone greeted him excitedly, and he was shaking from his frayed nerves but his grief loosened its hold little by little. It would take time yet; his brother hadn't been a good one by any means but still his brother nonetheless. He had a family still. People that loved him dearly. Wanted him there. Gave him purpose. Reason to breathe.

And his brother had sacrificed himself to protect his family... Even if Merle had not fit into the group, he had known how much Daryl cared for them. He had given up his life trying to take out the Governor so that Daryl would be the one to keep on living.

He would forever keep track of the date to remind himself when it was his brother's birthday, when he should grieve again, but this was the beginning with many new faces, young and old. Hope was blossoming.

It was time to come alive again. The thought of fresh air was starting to peak his interest. He wanted to feel alive again.

But as he sat down beside Rick, eagerly taking little Judith into his arms and cradling her before giving her back to her father, and as Carol's hand found his under the table, he realized something.

He already did.

Her hand over his and her silent encouragement was all he needed.

Nothing had ever felt so good than the calm, clear light swirling back into his cobalt eyes, and a rush of adrenaline piercing his lungs, like he had been underwater and he could breathe again.

Everything was going to be okay.

He was alive again.

He would take his brother's gift of life- and run with it as long as he could, until his knees were weak, his hands were blistered and his body broken.

Carol's fingers curling against his were a promise for a future. A hope. A different kind of beginning, for himself rather than the group. He welcomed it with open arms, his thumb reaching to rub her knuckles.

In the moonlight as he walked her back to their shared cell, he kissed her knuckles, wishing her goodnight, listening as she fell sound asleep.

He was alive.