As could be predicted, he didn't have the time to enjoy Carol's return. Just as he was beginning to face up to the fact that he had to man up and confess that he no longer thought of her in a strictly platonic way, the newcomer Michonne, announced that Glenn and Maggie had been taken hostage during a supply run. He wasn't entirely sure that he trusted the woman, she wasn't one of their own and she had a certain look in her eye that made him uneasy about leaving her anywhere near Carol, Beth and the baby, but her injuries told a story of their own and they couldn't leave their people in the hands of a man like the one she described. Less than twelve hours after bringing Carol back, he was already preparing to leave the prison in search of their friends.
It wasn't that he wanted to go, at the moment the thought of being away from her again was almost crippling, but he had known that he owed it to Rick and the others. The sheriff had a newborn and a grieving son to think about and he remembered all too clearly the pain that he had felt when he found out that his brother had been left behind. Months might have passed and he might have moved past the worst of that pain, but it still stung. He wouldn't, couldn't, leave them out there. The decision had been made quickly and the plan formed within an hour of them finding out where their friends were most likely being held.
While he, Rick, Oscar and Michonne prepared to leave, Daryl struggled with his own conflict; he knew that he needed to be out there at Rick's right hand, that his ability to kill almost silently with his bow was essential on a mission like this when the odds were so firmly stacked against them, but his heart didn't want to leave her behind, not so soon after it had gone through the agony of mourning for her. Any doubt that he had was eliminated the moment he glanced at her across the cell block, the baby nestled in her arms, a soft yet determined look on her face. He had seen a silent plea for him to bring Maggie and Glenn home safely in that look, and he had taken all the strength he needed from it.
She was by the door when he brought out the last of the weapons that they were taking to Woodbury, leaning against the gate with the baby in her arms, absorbed in the kicking and flailing of the little form that she cradled so naturally. Such a giving woman, a person who couldn't help but nurture those around her and want to heal their hurts. He had so much that he wanted to say to her, he wanted to tell her that he couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt, that he wanted to keep her close to him always, to be there when she fell asleep and when she woke up, to curl his body around hers in the dark and sleep with a knife in his hand so that he could always defend her, but his mouth and his brain failed him. Feelings coursed through him, yet he had no power to put them into words. Despite knowing how important it was to say things when he had the chance in case he didn't return, he couldn't put himself on the floor at her feet and offer her everything because that kind of vulnerability terrified him. How could the same woman, the gentlest creature he knew, instil such fear and inspire such strength all at the same time?
He paused at her side, looking down at her from his greater height, taking in the details of her face and the smile in her eyes when she stopped cooing to the baby and looked up at him. This was what he wanted, he wanted to be under the weight of that gaze for the rest of his days, to feel his heart speed up and slow down all at the same time. Unable to form words that would eloquently sum up what he wanted to say, he instead told her to stay safe and hoped that was enough.
The amused chuckle that she offered him, the half-smile and the comment about having nine lives reminded him that she was still Carol, that no matter what the world threw at her it couldn't rob her of that sense of humour that he found so damn adorable. She might have still been recovering physically but her will was indestructible, forged of iron or diamonds. Nine lives were still too few in his opinion but he didn't argue with her, or remind her that she must have already worked through half of those nine lives already. All he could hope was that when he came back, when he found whatever words he could offer her, she would consider sharing at least one of those nine lives with him.
There was something in her eyes when she looked at him then, that he would later come to understand, an affection born and bred from months on the road, a hundred moments where one of them had come through for the other and they had pulled one another back from the edge, and there was something else. He nodded once to her, acknowledging what he saw there and watched for her reaction. Carol smiled at him, it was brief but like a shooting star in the night sky, unmistakable. Just before he walked away, she looked him full in the face, her eyes roving over his features as if she wanted to memorise them. He saw a demand in those eyes that he come back safe, that he protect those who travelled with him, and beneath all of that he saw a promise that she would be waiting for him when he returned.
