A/N: Howdy, folks! I have to start with a sincere thanks for the support I've received so far for this story. I am so pleased that people are enjoying what I've got going here, and it is very encouraging to see such positive feedback. So hugs to you all!

And now, without further blabbering from me, here is another chapter for your reading pleasure!

Without even opening her eyes, Carol knew it was morning. She could hear birds chirping and there was a rosy glow behind her eyelids that told her the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. But even as she listened to the birds singing a cheerful tune to welcome a new day, Carol's heart broke. He hadn't come back. He was still out there somewhere, whether dead or alive she didn't know.

She covered her face with her hands, her body shaking with silent sobs as her mind was overrun with a thousand possibilities as to his whereabouts, each one more grim than the last. Rolling on to her side, she curled into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest as she cried, her tears soaking into the pillow beneath her head and the metal springs of the bed creaking softly as she moved.

Wait... what? She moved again. Instead of the cold, hard cement floor she expected upon waking, she was resting in comparative luxury on a thin foam mattress. The last thing she remembered was sitting on the floor in the middle of Daryl's cell...

She had been working steadily, the small flashlight clamped between her teeth, a tiny circle of light illuminating her hands as she patched the final pair of Daryl's pants. After tying off and snipping the thread, she held up the pants to admire her work. It was nothing spectacular, but it was functional and she hoped Daryl would appreciate the thought behind it.

She picked up one of his shirts, fingering the frayed edge where there had once been a sleeve. She didn't have enough fabric to make a new one so she settled for folding over the edge in a neat hem so at the very least, the shirt wouldn't unravel any more than it already had. She finished one shirt and was just starting on another when her lids began to droop heavily with sleep. Giving her head a quick shake, Carol slapped her cheeks in an effort to keep herself awake. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep. She was afraid she would fall back into that dream, where he had come back to her, but not in the way she wanted. He had come back as some undead thing and she couldn't run the risk of letting that image of him consume her again.

But despite her best efforts, her body began to sag, her movements getting clumsy with weariness. She pricked her finger with the needle and let out a hiss before tucking the finger between her lips. She blinked heavily, her head foggy with the need for sleep and although her mind fought it, her body won out and she slowly lowered herself on to her side, using Daryl's poncho as a makeshift pillow, his shirt still clutched in her hand as she drifted off to sleep...

Cracking open her eyes, Carol took in her surroundings. She was still in Daryl's cell. His clothes were still strewn about the floor. But she was curled up on the bottom bunk of his bed, his blankets tucked up around her. She wiggled her toes... her feet were bare and she caught sight of her boots sitting neatly side by side beside the door. She frowned. Surely she would remember getting up to take off her boots. Wouldn't she? She allowed her eyes to continue to roam and her heart jumped up into her throat. There, leaning up against the far wall, was his crossbow.

Forgetting where she was, Carol sat up too quickly, hissing in pain when her head collided sharply with the underside of the top bunk. She absently rubbed what was sure to be a formidable goose-egg by the end of the day, but barely registered the pain as she kicked her legs free of the blankets. The floor was freezing on her bare feet but she didn't care. Pushing herself up from the mattress, she stood and turned toward the bed.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand to stifle the sob that threatened to erupt. Daryl was sprawled out on the top bunk, one arm flung over his eyes while the other rested on his chest, which rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and Carol stood there mesmerized at the sight before her eyes. He was really here. He'd come back.

"Your mama never teach you it ain't polite to stare?"

His voice was gravelly with sleep, with a hint of annoyance at having been disturbed, but Carol didn't care. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she stared at him with wide, watery eyes.

"I-I'm just really glad you're back," she managed to choke out.

He raised the arm from his face and peered at her, his blue eyes narrowed.

"Why ya starin' at me like you seen a ghost then?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "An' why ya cryin'?"

Carol shook her head and laughed. "Happy tears?" she offered by way of an explanation.

Daryl rolled his eyes before covering them once again with his arm and shifting slightly on the mattress, clearly uncomfortable at being the cause of her tears, happy or not. "Damn women. Never understand y'all," he grumbled. When Carol continued to stare at him, he raised his arm again and glared at her. "Gonna stand there cryin' all day? Ain't got nothin' better to do?"

Despite his snappish tone, Carol smiled. She reached out and squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you're back, Daryl," she said quietly. "We missed you. I missed you."

She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up into that small half-smile of his, the one that made her heart do a neat little flip-flop in her chest. The one that he rarely shared, but when he did, it was tantamount to an expression of utmost joy. She let her hand linger on his arm for a moment longer, her thumb lightly skimming over his skin and she savoured his warmth and the swell of muscle just below the surface.

"Merle," she began timidly, "... did you... is he...?" The rest of her question died on her lips at the pained expression that flickered across his face. His smile disappeared and he cast his gaze to the ceiling above him, his jaw tense and his body suddenly rigid. "He's not comin' back," he said, his voice flat. Carol waited for him to elaborate, but he remained silent. Finally, he rolled on to his side, his back to her. Clearly, the conversation was over.

There were a million things Carol wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask. Was Merle alive? Had Daryl even found him? She had no idea. All she knew was that he was hurting and she had no idea how to help him. Getting him to talk, to open up, was hard at the best of times. But when something was really troubling him, he tended to close in on himself, keeping it all inside until something set him off and he lashed out at the most convenient target. She clearly remembered the tirade he had unleashed on her back at the Greene's farm, and the self-loathing that had taken over the moment his anger had abated. He'd hated himself for what he'd said to her, and she didn't want him to go through that again. He'd come so far since then, but old habits were hard to break.

He had such a hard time accepting kindness from others, but he had a good heart. He was always putting others ahead of himself, even now when it was clear that he desperately needed to grieve, his main concern was the safety of their group. She shook her head sadly. And last night... God, he must have been exhausted, completely spent, and yet he'd taken the time for her. He had scooped her up and tucked her into his own bed before collapsing on the top bunk himself. During her 15 year marriage, Ed had never done a single thing half as kind as that for her. Not once.

Bending down, Carol collected his poncho from the nest she'd made on the floor the night before. Standing on her tiptoes, she spread it out over him and reached out to smooth her hand over his unruly hair.

"I know you don't want to hear it," she said softly, "But we do care about you, Daryl. I care about you. And if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you..." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly and fresh tears sprung to her eyes, which she hastily wiped away. "Please, don't go through this alone."

He remained silent and motionless and Carol let out a sigh before heading for her own cell, grabbing her boots from where Daryl had left them by the door. As she pushed aside the blanket that served as his door, she paused at the sound of his voice.

"Carol?"

"Yes?" she asked tentatively.

"Thank you."

The words were quiet, barely above a whisper. But the hope that they instilled echoed loudly in Carol's heart.

That's all for now. Until next time...

*rhymes*