Carol Peletier's hand trembled in her lap.
She lay alone in her bed, her skin pale, feverish, eyes closed lightly as she breathed steadily... Balancing the panic in her mind and the exhaustion that overtook her frail body.
Daryl stood by the door, not daring to step inside his friend's cell as Maggie urged Carol to stay awake for a moment longer.
"Eyes open, Carol..." Maggie murmured, her voice contrasting against the shallow breaths echoing the room. "Can you talk to us?"
Maggie looked back at the hunter, who had begun to stare down at his shoes in frustration. "We need your help..."
Daryl shook his head slowly, eyes landing back on Carol's unresponsive face. She was barely conscious, and sure as hell didn't look up to discussing what she'd been through only moments before.
Daryl stepped out from the middle of the doorway, sliding against the concrete wall just beside the barred frame.
Daryl Dixon's hand trembled in his pocket.
In his tight grip were three more throwing knives... Three little weapons that brought him hope and desperation and dismay.
"Carol?" Maggie's voice drifted for a moment as Daryl thumped the back of his head against the wall in his impatience. "Okay, okay... Just sleep."
He exhaled loudly, lifting his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose.
Exhaustion tugged at his mind, a fogginess clouding his thoughts as he pressed his head back against the concrete.
He'd found Carol only fifteen minutes earlier, trapped in a janitor's closet behind four walkers. He remembered how her face lit up when she saw him, slumped against a wall with the handle of a mop resting just beside her left shoulder.
Her face lit up, and then she passed out.
Daryl remembered how weak and tired she was, unable to speak, to keep her eyes open... To move.
He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt when he had helped her to her feet and aided her back to the prison cells... And when he arrived back he was met with thankful eyes, pats on the back.
The worst part of it all was that he promised he'd find both missing women... But he returned with only one.
Everyone knew it, but not a single soul dared ask about what happened inside the tombs.
"Hey." Maggie stepped out of the doorway, glancing aside towards Daryl as she stopped in her tracks. "Daryl, you alright?"
He exhaled, nodding once.
"You did great finding Carol... You know that right?"
Daryl looked up at the woman, dropping the knives in his pocket and pulling his hands to his chest, crossing his arms.
"Nah... It was nothin'." He scratched at his neck with his left hand, standing straight. "She, she gonna wake up anytime soon?"
"I'm not sure," Maggie said. "Look, if Carol's still alive, still breathing... There's still a chance that Amy is out there, holed up somewhere."
"Holed up like she was?" Daryl nodded back to Carol's cell. "I thought I was close t' finding her today. She, she wasn't with Carol."
Maggie nodded shortly, having gathered that much herself. She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, eyes narrowing as she thought.
"Maybe... Maybe they just got split up."
"Already thought'a that... But she left--" Daryl cut himself off as he reached back into his pocket. "She left these at every turn."
Maggie immediately exhaled, glancing down at the knives she'd often seen Amy practicing with.
"She led you to Carol, then?" Maggie whispered. "With those?
"Yeah."
Daryl looked down at the knives for an aching moment.
"She didn't have enough to lead me t' her."
He moved away suddenly, biting the inside of his cheek as he breathed out.
"I need to go back in." Daryl murmured.
"There's, there's no point going into there now... You'll be wandering around for hours trying to find her -- the place is crawling with walkers." Maggie moved around Daryl, so she was facing him. "Carol might know where she is. Until she wakes, you should get some rest yourself."
"I mean it," Maggie murmured, "You look like shit."
Daryl exhaled softly, nodding once. He looked to his perch, eyes narrowing on the mattress he'd tossed and turned on until the early hours of the morning.
"I'll call for you when she's fit to talk."
<><><><>
"You're just gonna wait here, then?"
I bolted upright from where I lay on the cold concrete floor, a short gasp escaping my dry lips.
"No..." I breathed, my ears pounding.
Everything felt chaotic, even whilst I sat in a dark place... Even with no light, no sound...
Chaos was the only word I could use to describe what was happening in my head at that moment.
I felt like I was falling, like the darkness was closing in, and I was trapped... Locked in with no hope of ever getting out.
"You're just gonna wait here, then?"
The air felt like it was throbbing against my body, in my head... My skin coated in sticky heat that choked me, made me tired and flustered and restless all in the same agonising moment.
Something stung on my shoulder, like a wasp was constantly stinging that one spot, over and over again... Like the venom was getting stronger with every second, spreading up my neck, to my ears, my temples.
The space was tight around me, and I gasped for air inside of it.
"You're just gonna wait here, then?"
No.
"No!" I screamed, clambering to my feet as I coughed and gasped, my legs faint. "No, no!"
Another sound met my ears, besides the throbbing in my head and my own echoed cries... It sounded like thumping.
"Th--" My voice broke when I tried to talk to the emptiness around me.
Roamers.
Were they closing in on me?
I stumbled to the side, my eyes squeezing shut as the balls of my fists hit the surface of a desk.
"You're just gonna wait here, then?"
My hands clasped the side of the desk, fingers wound right around the metal edges of the surface.
"Stop it!" I yelled, giving the desk one almighty shove.
It budged forward.
I kept pushing at the desk, a prolonged scraping sound drawing goosebumps to my clammy skin, "Just stop it!"
Nothing was connecting in my mind, nothing made sense. I couldn't focus, couldn't make sense of where I was going, why I was hurting so much, and why I was so suddenly afraid of the dark.
I knew I'd almost reached the door when the snarls from the roamers outside were loud enough to draw my lips together in an involuntary attempt to silence my heavy breathing.
A muffled groan escaped my lips as I moved around the desk, touching the wet door handle in front of me.
My thumb slipped a little when I tried to grip it, urging me to edge away cautiously.
"You're just gonna--"
No.
I quickly moved back and swiped my hand at the handle, easily opening the door.
Almost immediately, there was a heavy pressure against the hard wood of the door, and I was reminded of the strength it took to hold it closed only hours before.
With the side of my body barely able to hold the door steady, I started an attempt to pull the desk closer with my foot... To no avail.
"No..." I whimpered, my breathing accelerating further.
"You're just--"
I jumped away.
I launched myself behind the desk just as the door flew open, revealing the gaunt and decaying faces of corpses who had been haunting me for too long.
With the door open, I was able to see my path as I heaved myself against the edge of the wooden table.
The roamers stilled for a moment, the bulkier one at the front of the group slowing the momentum of their attempts to move inside.
My legs buckled slightly, but I managed to push the desk against the open door frame, the roamers at the door shuffling back as the edge of the desk pushed at their stomachs. I took a slow breath, my eyes clouding with spots as the head rush took over.
Almost as soon as the desk was pressed against the door, the roamers began to claw at the wood, unable to lift themselves onto the surface.
"Al... Alright," I said under my breath, pulling my leg onto the desk, being careful to keep my hair away from the hands that reached across the space.
It took all of my strength to get myself onto the desk, and when I finally stood atop the shaking table, I had to hold my temple to stop the throbbing.
This was my delusional idea...
And, surprisingly, it was working so far.
I reached into my pouch and grabbed my last remaining knife. My legs trembled like crazy, and the heels of my sneakers were pressed to the edge of the desk below me.
The closest roamer was already reaching for my ankles with gnarled hands, its torso resting on the other side of the desk, which, oddly enough, managed to balance my weight.
I swallowed tightly.
Edging closer to its outstretched fingertips, I found my heart plummeting in my chest. I bent down slightly, as the man's rotting face continued to focus on my feet.
"O-Okay..." My voice was quiet and grainy as I turned the handle of my throwing knife, so that the blade was facing downwards at the heavy figure.
The roamer was oblivious to my face, to the hand that was nearing its head with a blade in hold, instead solely focused on the tip of my sneaker.
I shuffled forwards a little on the desk, the surface wobbling with my every movement... And with my shaking right hand I stabbed the corpse in the temple.
<><><><>
Daryl lay on his back, eyes closed, breathing uneven.
His mind was running through the past few hours, running through the moment he'd found Carol... Searched for more knives.
Had he missed something?
Sleep wouldn't relieve him from this guilt... A guilt that tore through his gut despite the fact that there was a woman in that cell who was previously trapped in a closet, a woman who would still be there if it weren't for him.
His eyes flickered open as he readjusted his head on the warm pillow, neck tense.
There was a tickling feeling against his chin, a faint, tiny, insignificant tickle that consumed his mind as he sat up.
He lifted a hand to absentmindedly rub at his stubble, when he felt it again.
A strand of dark hair had caught itself between his middle and index finger.
A short sigh escaped his mouth as he pulled the hair from his hand. It was a lot longer than his hair, darker, too.
With a tired groan, he turned his head to look down at his thin pillow, where another long strand of hair lay.
"Daryl?" Glenn whispered, sending Daryl into a fluster as he brushed the hair from his hand, cheeks tinted red. "Maggie told me to tell you... Well, Carol's up."
Daryl merely nodded briefly, standing abruptly to his feet.
He glanced back down at his mattress, head feeling heavier than it had been before he lay there, and nudged the pillow over with his foot.
"She wants to talk to you..." Glenn said again, "About what happened."
The hunter reached his hand back up to touch at his jaw, eyes still glued to his pillow.
"You alright?" Glenn shuffled on his feet, eyes watching Daryl cautiously.
"Fine." Daryl replied, breaking his moment of tired transfixion.
He followed behind Glenn down the stairs, eyes glued to the open cell belonging to Carol. From inside the cell, he could already hear hushed voices.
"And, and Lori?"
"Yes... Carol, we thought you were gone, too."
"How did this happen? Where's Rick?"
"Not here."
"D-Did you get Daryl for me? I need to..."
Glenn stopped by the front of the door and nodded to Daryl, "She's kinda still out of it," He said.
Daryl moved past him slowly, entering a cell that plunged into silence with his appearance. He took the brief moment to glance around the room, where Hershel and Maggie stood close beside a resting Carol.
"Oh..." She whispered, a thin smile on her tired lips. "Hello."
"Doin' okay?" Daryl asked quietly, unsure of what to do with himself. Maggie's eyes squinted up at him, knowing the man had so many questions, and that it was unusual for him to begin with something so careful.
"Yeah, yeah..." Carol lifted her head from the pillow. "Tired, dehydrated... Alive. Thanks to you."
"No. Not thanks t' me," Daryl grunted, shifting on his feet.
Carol raised her eyebrows in confusion, but Daryl refused to elaborate in front of everyone.
Maggie spoke up instead. "He said that Amy led him to you."
"Oh, God! Did she find you?" Carol sat up immediately, gripping her temple as she closed her eyes for a moment. "Where is she?
"Don't push yourself, Carol," Hershel said, gripping her shoulder.
"Well, where is she? I need to thank her..." She looked to Daryl, who couldn't respond. "I knew she'd make it to you... I was sitting in that closet, and, and it was--"
"She never got back." Daryl spoke in a slow murmur, a much gentler tone than the one he'd given to everyone else. "Left knives for me t' follow... Led me right to ya."
Carol didn't answer for a while.
"We've not found her yet, Carol." Maggie leant forwards, hands clasped together. "We thought maybe you'd know something about what happened..."
Whilst Maggie drifted off, Carol had taken to staring at Daryl with such a determined look on her face the man almost felt like she'd get up and start searching herself.
Then, she lay back down onto her bed, nestling her head in the pillow.
This drew a startled reaction from the two others, as Hershel and Maggie both shared a questioning glance. Carol stared up at the bottom of the top bunk.
"Amy's alive, Daryl," She said, lips pursing for a moment. "She's gotta be."
<><><><>
"Hello?" Rick spoke into the phone, straining his voice after the long silence.
He'd spent the entire night on the floor, knees pulled to his chest as he waited for something to happen... Anything.
"You didn't want to tell him how your wife died?" This voice was another man, his voice gentle but his tone straight to the point.
"No..." Rick hesitated. "I-I just lost her."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, breathing doubt into the one-ended conversation.
"B-But, but if that's what it takes..."
"It'd be good." The voice stated, "You should talk about it, Rick. Get it out of the system."
Rick breathed out, "That sounds..."
And he stopped himself.
His eyebrows furrowed, his head turned to the side, his lips pressed together.
"How..." He paused, "How do you know my name?"
"Don't forget your promise, Rick."
"How... How do you--?"
"Your humanity... It's a choice."
Rick Grimes' hand trembled against the receiver.
"What..."
"Make the right one."
The line went dead.