A/N:Thanks for your review and the follows! :) And sorry that I posted this chapter later here than on AO3 and ninelives but ff net was acting up and wouldn't let me log in. Anyway, here you go! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 12:

The sound of more explosions filled the air around them as they continued to stagger forward. The heat was all-consuming and the smoke that had drifted into even the last corners of the area made taking a simple breath almost impossible. Her feet moved clumsily, crisscross patterns, tilting ground; her vision swam and she bumped repeatedly into Daryl's body.

He didn't respond, didn't acknowledge her except for the strong arm that remained wrapped around her and prevented her from falling over completely. He didn't even seem to notice that everything around them was crumbling, that the stench of burning flesh hung in the air. But there was a drive in him that kept him moving forward. There was such palpable anger, frustration and hurt that it instantly reminded her of the one and only time she had feared he might strike her.

He was suffering, entrapped in his own personal hell but found it easier to connect to the rage. She could feel him dying to tear someone down, rip someone to shreds and cause the most possible damage to himself in the process. He wanted to bruise, to burn, to ache. She could feel it. And she couldn't reach him. Not yet.

The path ahead of them, the maze of seemingly never-ending corridors and buildings was littered with corpses, both dead and undead. She didn't know if they were making progress but kept following Daryl, afraid to lose him further if she were to sever their physical bond.

"Wait."

She hadn't heard his voice since he had screamed at the survivor a few moments ago and the change was startling. He sounded tired now, empty. But she accepted his instructions and stopped moving, allowed him to disentangle his arm and walk away. The lack of his presence left her feeling vulnerable and scared, although he had only strayed a few steps.

He was standing hunched over a figure on the ground. She squinted and tried to make out more, tried to see who he had found now.

Was it Tyreese or someone else from their group?

She noticed that his gun still dangled loosely in the crook of her arm and absent-mindedly pulled it back up and over her shoulder. Then she looked back in time to see Daryl remove an item from the body, a large one which he held up carefully and appraised in mid-air.

It was a crossbow.

She started moving towards him and saw him run a finger over the arrows that were left. There were only two, a third had been broken.

She heard him curse, saw him feel every inch of it in search of further damage.

"Yours…" it was a statement, not a question and he nodded without looking at her. "Is this?" she asked, pointing to the body on the ground that had nearly been torn in half.

"Mmh…" he hummed, "got what was coming to them."

He slung the crossbow over his shoulder and then stomped on the group leader's head, which crunched and squished and finally broke apart under his boot.

The sound very nearly turned her stomach and so she started walking, trying to push the horrific image away. Eventually his heavy footsteps caught up with her but they continued in silence, finally leaving Terminus behind and entering the forest once more.

There was no sign of the herd on this side, its remnants seemed to have scattered around the compound. In fact, there was an almost eerie sense of peace in the forest. No signs of life, no movements, not even a breeze.

Carol's body was aching everywhere. Pained, heavy feet, stabbing pain in her chest, a strain on her back.

But Daryl was showing no signs of slowing down. He kept marching ahead with determination, not once looking back at her. She knew that it helped him to push on and so she tried keeping up with him, but when she started to feel light-headed she was forced to stop.

Small tingles made their way down her arm and to the tips of her fingers. Her wrists seemed to be pulsating with too much life. Prickling, brimming over. She registered her own heavy breathing, squeezed her hand into a fist to shake off that feeling.

"Daryl."

She couldn't lift her head up anymore, couldn't see if he had continued on without her. She was longing to soldier on for his sake so that he could walk off his anger, so that he would find a way to tell her what he was feeling before it would consume him like everything else had consumed her.

A tremor passed through her body.

She wasn't going to make it.

The next time she stirred, everything around her was pitch black. Had she really opened her eyes?

She squinted and saw shadows, contours of something dark that barely stood in contrast with everything else around.

The shadows were moving, swaying gently side to side. She could hear the breeze, the soft rustling of leaves and suddenly the whole scene cleared.

She was staring up at the few pieces of night-sky that were visible through the crowns of the trees. Needles and cones were pressing into her back and so she tried to shift but found she was lacking the energy.

And where was Daryl?

Had he continued on without her?

She felt around for something on the forest ground, anything that she could toss somewhere to make some sound and alert him to her. But nothing but needles and withered blades of grass tickled her fingers.

Then she encountered something heavy and robust.

Tyreese's gun.

She squeezed it for reassurance and then felt further.

Her backpack.

Someone had put them all within her reach. Daryl couldn't be far. Another soft breeze washed through her hair, cooled her face that seemed bruised after the fire had assaulted it so. She needed more.

Lifting a tired arm up she tried peeling off a layer of clothing but was surprised when her skin didn't come in contact with the soft fabric of the old lady's coat she had last worn, but instead with something colder and slicker. She feebly grasped it between her fingers and lifted it up for inspection.

Daryl's vest.

She twirled it around, could just make out the angel wings on the back. He must've taken off the coat, wrapped her in her own one again and then draped his vest over her to make sure she stayed warm enough.

The emotions flooded her so quickly that she couldn't prevent the tears that blossomed alongside the smile on her face. He wasn't too far gone. She could still bring him back.

Leaning against a tree a couple of meters away, Daryl sat and kept watch, unaware that Carol had woken up again. As a matter of fact, he had been unaware of almost everything in the past however many hours had ticked by. Since the apocalypse time had become an abstract concept once more.

But he'd relied on his instincts to alert him if a potential threat was to be nearing Carol. It was more important now than ever before that he kept her safe.

But in contrast to that protective, almost possessive need to keep her safe, was the fear that seemed to inhibit every last inch of his body. The fear that kept mercilessly reminding him of his failures in the past, of the deaths of all the people he had vowed to keep safe.

How could he endure another one?

How could he ever bear to lose her?

The fear paralyzed him while whispering possibilities into his ear.

What if he just ran away?

What if he disappeared before he had to witness the inevitable?

What if he just spent the rest of his life believing that Carol was safe somewhere?

But could he? Or would he always be wondering if he had failed her? Would he be able to live with the guilt of having abandoned her in the middle of a forest?

A couple of times he had risen to a semi-stand or perhaps had only pictured himself doing so, as his body itched to get away. But in the end it was impossible. Abandoning her was not an option.

Restlessly, he slipped the knife out of its holster and started flipping it around in his hand. It was a gesture that had become a nervous habit by now. He knew instinctively how much force was needed to make sure that it landed safely in his hand again. He knew which angle would create the best shape in the air.

And yet this time it always landed the wrong way round. His palm tightened rhythmically around the blade, felt it cut into his skin and felt the moisture that could only be blood trickle down his wrist.

Man up, Darleena. You've always been too soft.

You're not them. You're your own person. That's what Carol had said.

But it didn't matter who you had been or who you were now, the outcome was always the same. The earth was wiping itself out and all that would remain was loss. And he was done fighting it.

He didn't want to be the last man standing.

The first thing Carol noticed when she awoke again were the noises around her or the lack thereof. There was wind, soft and gentle and the whispering of leaves and grass as the forest came to life. But there were no explosions, no screams of agony, not even the crackling of a burning fire.

Brightness touched her even through her closed lids and for a moment she just savored it all. Everything was far from alright and she knew that within a few seconds the reality of their recent experiences would catch up with her again and strangle that moment of bliss but for now she was breathing, she was sensing, she was alive and the world was quiet.

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up at the sky that was blue and inviting once more. No walkers in sight and Daryl wasn't gone.

Small things but she needed to count her blessings, had always excelled in that.

Mommy's alright, Sophia, don't worry. It's only a bruise, nothing's broken.

It could've been much worse.

With a deep sigh she pulled herself up into a sitting position, Daryl's vest slipped down her body and landed in her lap. Her head ached still, but it was a duller pain now, much easier to ignore. She automatically scanned the area for threats but there was nothing except trees and Daryl's sleeping figure a couple of meters away.

Terminus was no longer visible. Another memory, another nightmare.

She was thankful even for that and so she tried her hand at another smile but found that her face couldn't comply. Her muscles felt heavy, there was pressure on her cheeks. A thick layer of soot and walker blood.

She turned her body and reached for her backpack, pulling out one of the water bottles they had found the previous day. She had intended to use some to wash her face, but the sight of it suddenly reminded her how thirsty she was. Her vocal cords seemed as glued together as her other muscles. And so she gulped most of the water down at such a pace she feared for a moment it might make her sick. But then her torso relaxed and some of the urgency dispelled.

Still, she gave herself a moment before pouring the remnants of the bottle into her hands and washing away the grime that had covered her face. Her skin continued to feel sensitive and raw, presumably from a burn or a cut, she couldn't tell without a mirror. But it was manageable.

Standing up was difficult but she made it somehow and scooped up her belongings before stumbling towards Daryl. He heard her and tiredly opened an eye. They didn't speak but understood each other nonetheless.

They would move on in time but not now, not yet.

The gun and the backpack dropped heavily on the earthy ground and then she lowered herself as well. Daryl shifted and closed his eyes again, allowing her enough space to lean against the tree. The sides of their bodies touched comfortably, reassuringly at every possible point and Carol folded out his vest again and covered them both with it, then she tilted her head so she could rest her chin against his shoulder. They were tired, lost and disheartened but just for that moment even that was alright.