Daryl managed to compose himself long before anyone else came up the tower. He sat in a steely silence, staring beyond the fence but not really watching. When someone finally did come up to relieve him, it was Rick.

"Anythin' goin' on?" Rick asked, leaning over the railing next to Daryl.

"It's all quiet." Daryl grumbled before standing up and stretching, "I'm gonna go get some food. Or somethin'" Rick nodded and let Daryl leave. He could sense something was up with the hunter but he wasn't going to press him for answers. He watched as Daryl strode across the courtyard and entered the cellblock.

Daryl squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light in the cellblock. His eyes immediately sought her out though, searched through the throng of people in the common room until they spotted her. She was coddling Judith. Once Daryl spotted her, he went over to his seat on the steps. He rested his head in his hands and glared at the Woodbury residents.

Herschel hobbled over, a bowl of stew in his hands. He lowered himself onto the step next to Daryl before holding the stew out to him. Daryl took it and nodded his thanks.

"Things seem a little tense between you and Carol," Herschel drawled, propping his crutches against the steps. Daryl stayed quiet, pushing a piece of squirrel stew around with his fork.

"I know you'll make it right." Herschel croaked before getting up, tucking his crutches under his arms. Daryl stared at the bowl of stew, pushing it around but not eating it. His appetite had gone. He scowled to himself before pushing himself to his feet, leaving his cold stew on the step. He glanced at Carol and saw her and Tyreese chatting, sharing a bowl of stew. He darted up to his cell and gripped the doorframe. Numbness was spreading through him, taking over.

He collapsed on his bed, breathing heavily, his hands balled into fists. He was fighting the urge to hit something, preferably Tyreese's face. He leapt to his feet and felt in his pocket, his fingers enclosing around the cool metal of the bracelet. He pulled it out and examined it closely. It was a basic design, dotted with sapphires. He turned it over and saw something engraved on the inside.

Nobody Loves Me Like you Do

Daryl chuckled when he saw it. Love was in the air, just not for him. He sighed and left his cell. As he passed Carol's cell, he tossed the bracelet on her bed. He trotted down the stairs and shot Carol a look before disappearing from the common room.

He didn't stop until he was in the solitary corridor. He paused outside the cell that he'd found Carol in, barely conscious and suffering from dehydration. He had thought it was a walker behind the door, feebly trying to escape. He had kicked the door in rage before dragging the fat walker blocking the door out the way.

He pressed his hand against the cell door before opening it. His eyes darted to the corner in which he'd found Carol. The door was scratched from where she had tried to escape. Daryl ran his fingers over the gouges, picturing Carol's meek form pawing at the door. Daryl rocked back on his heels before pulling the knife from his belt.

It was Carol's original knife, the one that Daryl had found imbedded in the fat neck of a walker. He had kept it because he thought it held the last memory of Carol, feebly stabbing a walker before it bore down on her and devoured her. It symbolised her going out fighting. And now she was alive, so the sybolism of the knife was gone. He'd never had the heart to return the knife to Carol because of the emotions it contained.

Daryl had adopted the knife as his own, keeping his first knife under his bed in his cell, as a spare. He studied the sharp blade, running his fingers over the tip. The blade had become dull over time and constant sharpening. His finger slipped over the blade, drawing him out of his reverie. He winced and glanced down. Blood was running down his hand. It wasn't a bad cut, he'd had paper cuts worst than this, but it stung. He crouched down and swiped the his finger on the wall, in a cross. He propped the knife against the wall under the cross before wiping his finger on his pant leg and leaving.

Carol placed Judith down in the makeshift cot in her room before dropping down on her bed, dragging her wrist across her brow, wiping sweat away. It was warm in the cell block, too warm to be comfortable. Judith had been harder to settle than usual, probably because of the heat, but Carol had managed to get her to sleep.

Someone knocked on the doorway to her cell. Carol propped herself up on her elbows and looked over to the door. It was Tyreese. Carol forced a small smile, she had really been hoping it would be a tall, muscular hunter. Tyreese grinned before coming in and sitting next to Carol on the bed. Carol sat up and crossed her legs.

"Hey," She smiled, smoothing down her bed sheets, "We need to be quiet, Judith's asleep."

"She finally settled? You must be a miracle worker. She was bawlin' earlier." Tyreese grinned, keeping his voice low.

"I've had a lot of practice with babies. My daughter, Sophia, was a very cholicky baby. But she was worth it, they always are." Carol's smile drooped a bit as she thought about her dead daughter, "They grow up so fast."

"Where is she now? Did she go off to college or somethin' before all this started?" Tyreese asked quietly.

Carol raised an eyebrow, "How old do you think I am?" She teased lightly before becoming serious, "She died."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Tyreese murmured before asking quietly, "How?"

"A walker." Carol said softly, "We stopped to siphon gas and get supplies. We stuck in the middle of the highway, snarled up in all the cars. A herd of walkers passed through. We were all hidin' under cars and I guess Sophia...I guess she thought it was safe to get out." Carol swallowed, "And a couple'a stray walkers found her. They chased my baby into the woods. Rick went after her, managed to draw the walkers away and kill them. When he got back to the place he'd left Sophia, she'd gone." Carol blinked tearfully. Tyreese wiped the stray tears off her cheek.

"You musta been pissed at Rick, for losin' your little girl." Tyreese stated and Carol shook her head, a small chuckle leaving her lips.

"I tried to be but I couldn't. I knew it weren't his fault, and then Carl got shot. Daryl took it upon himself to find my little girl, he took an arrow and a bullet in the process." Carol allowed herself a small smile as she recalled the way Daryl had gone out every day, looking.

"He didn't do a very good job, if you never found her." Tyreese sneered, obviously taking a dig at Daryl, "I thought he was supposed to be a hunter." Carol didn't jump to Daryl's defence like she usually did. She figured he deserved some slander on his good name.

"Oh no, we eventually found her, all chewed up and zombified. Rick shot her." Carol rubbed her eyes and stretched. She stifled a yawn.

"I should let you get some sleep." Tyreese stood up, giving Carol space to lie down. He bent down and took Carol's face in his hands. He pressed a firm kiss to her lips. Carol froze as Tyreese worked away on her lips, her eyes wide open, taken by surprise. That just happened to be the moment when Daryl decided to come and apologise. He froze in the doorway, a look of hurt flitting across his face and staying in his eyes. He stormed away. Carol spotted him and her own heart ached for him, wanting Daryl to be the one kissing her. Not the one hurting.

Tyreese drew back and left with a quick, "G'night."

Carol ran her fingers over her lips, remembering the warmth of Tyreese's on hers. It wasn't unpleasant but he wasn't the one she wanted to kiss. He wasn't the one she wanted. The one she wanted was just too coward to act on his feelings.

She wriggled down in her bed, feeling something hard under her back. She arched her body before reaching under to grab it. Her fingers wrapped around something cold and she pulled it free. It was a bracelet, dotted with saphhires that brought out her eyes. She turned it over, instantly knowing who it was from. Her heart broke when she read the message on the inside.

Daryl paced courtyard angrily. He knew Carol and Tyreese were more than just friends. What hurt him the most, other than the fact she didn't love him, was that she had lied to him. She had looked him in the eye and said they were just friends. He glanced at the guard towers. Rick and Michonne were on watch and Rick was watching him intently.

Daryl met his eyes, sending a silent message.

I'm okay. Don't worry about it.

Rick nodded and turned his attention to the fences, keeping his steely gaze on the walkers. Daryl sighed and stretched. A horrible smell invaded his nostrils. Daryl looked around warily before realizing the smell was him. He was the one who stunk. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a shower or washed. Sure he'd been in a couple of rivers but he hadn't scrubbed the dirt from his skin. He glanced over to the shower block. It looked empty and no steam was curling out of the doorway.

He padded over and tentatively entered. The showers were empty and the only sound was the dripping of water. Daryl sighed to himself before unbuttoning his shirt and draping it on a hook near the entrance. He kicked his boots and socks off before unbuckling his belt and slipping his pants off. He kept his underwear on, just incase anyone walked in on him. Daryl and the group may have been together for almost a year but that didn't mean he wanted them seeing his junk.

Heck, only Herschel, Rick and Glenn knew about his scars. Carol probably had an inkling about them but she'd never seen the upfront. Daryl felt oddly ill at ease as he turned a shower on and stood under the water. Something in the pit of his stomach just refused to relax.

The warm water relaxed his tense muscles but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Daryl ignored the feeling and closed his eyes, tilting his head back so the water ran down his face. His eyes opened and he looked around the showers, his eyes zoning in on bottles of shower gel and shampoo on a shelf. Maggie must have used them earlier. Daryl walked over to them and found the least feminine bottles. Luckily he'd picked up some shower gel made for men. He picked up a bottle of shampoo, not really caring what kind it was.

Daryl squirted the shower gel into the palm of his hand before rubbing it all over his chest, back and arms, massaging it in. He rubbed it undeer his arms and up his legs before stepping back under the water. The foam ran off him, a murky grey colour with all the dirt. Once Daryl was satisfied he squeezed shampoo into his hair before rubbing it in, making sure his fingers rubbed his skull. He rinsed quickly and closed his eyes, letting the water run over him. It was pleasant, it felt good being clean again.

A gasp forced his eyes open. Beth stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of Daryl showering. A shadow slipped in behind her before clamping a hand over her mouth and pulling a knife to her neck. The figure pushed further into the shower, obviously not seeing Daryl. It was the big black guy that had stolen Daryl's crossbow when he was captured in Woodbury. Another figure pushed in behind him, talking nervously.

"I don't think they saw us Bowman." The second figure was smaller, more mouse like. He spotted Daryl and surged towards him. He tackled Daryl into the wall, getting the upperhand due to surprise. Daryl hadn't expected anyone to ruin showertime. The mousy dude tried to keep Daryl pinned to the wall.

"Keep 'im down, Dexter!" Bowman growled, tightening his grip on Beth. Dexter's hands wrapped around Daryl throat and began to squeeze. Daryl raised his knee and it smashed in Dexter's stomach, breaking his grip. Daryl grabbed the smaller man by his hair and smashed his face into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Daryl turned to Bowman, who had pulled crossbow from his back and was loading it. He had pushed Beth to the ground and had his foot pressed on her back, using a considerable amount of his weight to keep her down.

Tears streamed down Beth's face and moans of pain left her. She met Daryl's eyes and he could see the sheer terror in them. Daryl was unarmed, his crossbow was back in his cell and his knife was in his pants, on the hook. Daryl ran towards Bowman, but missed. He slipped on the puddles of water caused from his shower and crashed into the wall. His ribs groaned in protest as he smashed into the wall. Daryl stifled a groan before looking up. He was under the hook that held his clothes. He reached up, grabbed his pant leg and pulled them off the hook. He freed his knife and stagged to his feet, woozy.

There was a click then pain exploded through Daryl's left shoulder. His vision blurred as the pain almost became too much but then he heard Beth's squeal and he focused. Bowman had Beth on her feet again, his blade once again pressed to her throat.

"Let her go." Daryl croaked. He glanced at his shoulder and almost fell to his knees. An arrow was sticking out of his shoulder, imbedded in the flesh. He winced.

"What you gonna do bout it? Kill me? Well you can't," Bowman sneered, "Now you're gonna let us leave. You can keep Dexter here, do what you wish with him. But I'm gonna go, with Blondie."

"I said let her go. You ain't escapin' here. Over my dead body." Daryl panted.

"That can be arranged," Bowman snarled. Daryl blinked black spots from his view before remembering the knife in his hand. He lifted it up and stared at it. Could he? Could he throw it? Would he hit Bowman? Or Beth?

Daryl sighed before lining up the knife with his target. He would just have to trust his aim. Which was easier said than done. On a normal day, he could throw a knife with perfect precision but today he was in pain, he was bleeding and the man held Beth as a human shield. He would just have to trust his aim, trust his instinct.

The blade arched through the air and imbedded itself in a skull.

A/N: How is everyone? This chapter contains some romance, talks, action. And a clean Daryl. Who had seen the Walking Dead Season 4 trailer? It looks freaking awesome!

Anyways you guys know what to do , drop a review below :)