Chapter Text
Across the camp Daryl sat at the far edge of the ditch, sharpening his blade in slow, methodical movements. He didn’t turn when footsteps approached.
Carol sat down next to him, uninvited. “You know Maggie’s watching,” she said.
He scoffed. “So?”
“She’s watching
you
and Beth.”
“Then she’s got too much time on her hands.”
Carol smiled faintly, not looking at him. “She’s not the only one who sees it.”
“There ain’t nothin’ to see,” Daryl muttered, sharper than he meant to.
Carol shrugged. “You sure about that?”
Daryl bristled. “Ain’t anyone’s business.”
Carol let a beat of silence settle between them before she spoke again, voice level. “You care about her.”
He finally turned his head, just enough to glance at her.
She met his eyes. “You think you’re hidin’ it, but Daryl… you ain’t exactly subtle.”
Daryl looked away again, back to the trees, fidgeting with the handle of his knife. He didn’t deny it.
Carol went on, voice steady. “You guard her more than your damn crossbow. The way you were when that hospital took her? You wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, and you barely spoke to anyone. You were tearing through Atlanta like it owed you something.”
Daryl’s voice was low, tight. “We needed her back. I just found her, that’s all.”
Carol looked at him, sideways and steady. “No, Daryl, that wasn’t
all.
You stormed that hospital like hell itself was gonna burn if they didn’t let her go. And when we got her back—patched up, head wound and all, barely conscious—you didn’t let anyone else carry her.”
His glare darkened, voice low. “Someone had to, she wasn’t gonna walk out herself.”
“And that someone had to be you. Your name was the first she called when she came too in that hallway and you held onto her like the world would end if you let go, like she was the only thing left that was still worth saving.” she said gently.
“She
was
,” Daryl snapped—too fast, too raw. The words hit the air and hung there.
Carol’s gaze softened. “There it is.”
“She’s alive, ain’t she?” he tightened his jaw, hand now stilled on the blade, the whetstone hovering for a beat before he scraped it across the metal again—harder this time. “That’s what matters.”
Carol was quiet for a beat, then said, “That’s not the only thing that matters. Not anymore.” she looked toward the fire, where Beth sat with Maggie, holding Judith on her lap and humming. “She means something to you,” Carol said. “And it scares the hell out of you. You can’t pretend like you don’t feel it, not after all that. The way you were… it wasn’t just about bringing someone home.”
“I ain’t scared,” he said quietly, voice rough.
Carol didn’t respond right away. She just stood, brushing dirt from her hands, then glanced down at him—her expression soft, but edged with something knowing. “No,” she said, “You’re not scared of walkers, or dying, or going hungry.” She paused. “But letting someone in? Letting yourself have something good for once?” She shook her head. “Yeah, Daryl. That terrifies you.”
He didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the fire, on Beth, still humming to Judith while Maggie reached out and tucked Beth’s hair behind her ear. Then, she smiled at something Maggie said. It was small, soft, and real.
Something in his chest twisted, but he didn’t name it.
Carol’s voice softened. “She’s not the same girl from the prison, and you’re not the same man who used to stand in the back of the group and grunt at everyone.”
Daryl let out a dry snort at that, but it wasn’t sharp. Just tired.
Carol smiled faintly. “You found her, she found you too. Don’t waste that.” She walked away then, leaving Daryl alone with the whetstone and the weight of her words.
For a while, Daryl didn’t move. He just sat there, hands now idle. Then, slowly, he sheathed the knife and stood. His eyes found Beth again—her head tilted back in laughter now as Judith babbled and Maggie smiled beside her. The firelight painted her hair gold, like it had the night they lit that shack on fire.
And for once, he let himself feel it.
All of it.