Daryl sighed, and said, "You know what's gonna happen now, don't you? We're gonna have to step up even more than before. Think we never found enough time together before? Ain't nothin' compared to what it's gonna be like now."
Carol's mind nearly went blank with confusion and shock. On one hand, Daryl was absolutely right - with Rick and Hershel gone, it would fall to them to fill the vacuum left by those absences. Glenn was still weak from the flu, and Maggie and Beth were devastated by their father's brutal death. The newer people were largely unknown quantities, but thus far only Sasha had shown the kind of resilience and backbone they'd need if they wanted to stay alive for long, let alone offer any kind of leadership to the rest.
On the other hand… he had known he wanted more time with her before all of this, before he'd thought he'd lost her for good, and he hadn't done anything about it. He had wanted to be with her, and apparently found it too difficult to even try. Carol didn't know whether to cry, or punch him in the mouth.
On the third hand, the look on his face was so purely miserable that she did neither, and instead offered him a hand up off of the floor. She ached to see how slowly he rose to his feet, and asked, "are you sure you're okay? You're moving like you lost a fight."
He merely looked at her with a wry expression, like, what kind of moron are you? and said, "nah, just a war," and suddenly she was laughing, tickled beyond her ability to hold it back, despite the horrible truth behind his comment. He pulled her into his arms and said, "God, it's good to hear your laugh again. Even though it ain't all that funny, really."
"No," she said. "Not funny, but true." She reached for his hand, and he laced his fingers through hers, and they went together to see what their future might hold.
The rest of their motley company had already gathered in the old prison bus so they could all sit together in moderate comfort. Many of the older Woodbury residents had hardly left it since they'd arrived days before, finding sitting or lying on the cold concrete floor to be too difficult.
The low murmur of conversation stilled as Carol stepped into the bus, with Daryl close behind her. She stood for a long moment, looking at all the faces that turned expectantly toward her. Sixteen, seventeen… nineteen. Twenty-one, counting herself and Daryl. Twenty-one, out of nearly forty. Dear God. Carol shut her eyes against the flood of tears that threatened. She wanted nothing more than to run back down the stairs, go out the door and jump into her car and drive away. What did they expect her to do? She felt Daryl's warm hand in the small of her back, and leaned the smallest bit into it, knowing he'd support her if she needed him to.