I have no idea where this came from. Major character deaths implied, so be warned. This takes place sometime between Suicide King and Home. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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She always expected him to come back.

It didn't matter that Merle probably wouldn't allow it, or anything could happen to them while they were off in the woods alone. She knew he would come back; she could feel it in her bones. He would come back to her, to them, and things would go back to a semblance of normal. So she waited.

Every day, she got up and went to the fence, her sharp eyes taking in everything. There were a few walkers here and there, nothing she couldn't handle with a quick jab of a knife through the chain link fence.

The rest of the group began to worry. She rarely ate, and the only time she seemed to stay in the prison was the time she spent with Judith or on Daryl's perch.

On the third day, Carol began her usual morning routine. Dragging herself from Daryl's pallet, she quietly dressed and armed herself. Then she made her way outside, the early morning sun warming her too-pale skin. The air was muggy and thunder rolled ominously in the distance. The sun was out, but it wouldn't be out for long. She could smell the rain on the wind. Could Daryl smell it, too? Was he safe?

Behind her, someone else emerged from the prison. The footsteps were too heavy to be Beth or Carl, too solid to be Hershel. So Rick or Glenn had followed her. She supposed it didn't matter. They were all going to worry no matter what she did. Maybe she should have been more worried herself.

Her feet carried her down to the fence. There was one lone walker, easily dispatched by her blade. Then she saw it.

"Daryl…"

Rick saw the way Carol suddenly tensed; he barely blinked before she took off for the gate.

"Carol!"

Her feet moved faster and faster; her hands trembled as she roughly flung the gate open and flew through it. He was just a few feet away now, close enough for Carol to see the sweat glistening on his skin. The sky suddenly split open and rain fell from the heavens, hard and fast against her skin.

"Daryl, oh thank God!" She didn't hear Rick scream her name, nor did she notice the absence of the older Dixon brother. Nothing else mattered as she flung herself against Daryl. Her arms went around his waist; his skin was cold against hers. She buried her face in his neck, and for one brief moment, her world was finally right.

Then a faint growl rumbled in Daryl's chest as his teeth sank into the vulnerable hollow of her neck…

"Carol, no!"

Rick tried to reach the gate in time, but he was too late. The thing that was Daryl bit into Carol's neck, tearing viciously at her flesh. She didn't make a sound, and her arms never unwrapped themselves from Daryl's waist.

With a heartbroken sob, Rick lifted his gun as the thing raised its head and looked at Rick. The eyes, once a striking shade of blue, were gray and devoid of anything that was once Daryl.

Two shots rang out, piercing the peaceful morning atmosphere.

The End.