This was originally supposed to be a prompt for Kathleenesmiles.
But it went awry. I felt very badly about it. So maybe, maybe this'll make up for it.
Warning, mega angst and tears (I cried writing it.) and cussing and general racism.
oh! and on another weebit. Please imagine Sean Patrick Flanery as Ford. Thereyago. Now its in your head. You may go on.

"When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun."
William Shakespeare.

Gunfire.
Screaming.
Aching bones.
Explosions.
All of this happened around Carol Peletier, but she noticed none of it.
The sun was but a whisp upon the horizon. They were winning. But at what cost?
So many dead, their own, others, innocents.
All at the hands of a narcissistic madman with an eyepatch and a sour temperament.

Carol let out a sob as she ran towards the man she had grown to love so very much.
She ran through gunfire, through shouts and things biting into her skin.
She thought she might have been shot.
In the shoulder, maybe? She wasn't sure. She didn't feel pain; all she felt was an all-encompassing terror and a drive to get to the man.

The steel had fallen with a noise not unlike the gates of hell opining.
The Governor had blew half the old cotton gin apart.
The steel support beam had fallen with the sound that wracked through her bones, that shattered her spine, most likely, along with his.
She skidded to his side, her knees tearing open as she fell upon the rocks.
He opened his eyes, eyes so blue you could find yourself lost in them.
He'd not let out scream, no noise.
He was good at that, being in pain and not letting anyone know.

"wo-woman." He grunted.
"Gon'get yo'self killed." He slurred, his head falling back as he tried to see her.
He knew it was her the moment the soft hands touched his head, and it was pulled onto his lap.
The Steel across his lower chest bit into him, burned and cut.

"Fine then." She told him.
"Good a day as any." She said in a watery voice, her great blue eyes vast as the Georgia sky, lashes as thick as the pines. He liked that about her eyes. How it reminded him of the mountains.
They grey of smoke coming out a chimney, lips the color of strawberries in spring.
The one hand he had loose came to rest on her shoulder as his head lay on her lap.

"you're bleedin'" he coughed.

"Don't care." She told him, her own hands on his face, smoothing his hair.

"You'shouldgo." He mumbled, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before they opened again, a shot of pain going up his spine.

"No. I won't." She replied, not bothering to wipe away the tears that had fallen from her eyes.

He sighed, letting his eyes close.
"I know." He sighed. It was a moment before he felt the tears prickling his own eyes.
"Do you remember-" he asked her, his breath was heavy, strained.
"When I yelled at you?"

She let out a watery laugh.
"Which time?" her hands wiped away dirt, grime and gunpower from his cheeks, thumb brushing against the tiny mark, hidden so well in the scruffy beard.

"Stop." He said, though there was humor there, his face fell.
"At the farm? When I said Sophia wasn't mine?" his voice was so faint she had to duck closer over him so she could hear over the dull roar of war in her ears.
"Yes, I remember. I know you didn't mean it." She told him.

He shook his head a tiny amount.
"No-" tears flowed down his face as she clutched her side with his free hand, hand dipping under the shirt, hands on the cool, soft skin of her ribs.
How many nights had he thought about that skin, the skin of her neck, of her breast?
How it glistened when she worked, (He had decided that everyone else sweated, but Carol, Carol glistened.Something that would continue to baffle him until the day he died,)
(which, admittedly, had come before he thought himself ready.)
How many nights had he wanted to touch her skin, but not had the courage to do so?
It figured he'd get the courage, only when their time was up.
"I wanted her to be." He told her, chest rattling.

"Wanted her to be mine, never wanted anythin' more. I'm so angry with her. I woulda come to get her. I woulda taken care of her, taught her to hunt and to make dumplin's. Woulda taken her on runs, taught her all the things my daddy and her daddy never did." His face was anguished, hand near bruising against her skin. "I woulda told her 'bout the Cherokees and all their stories. I wanted her to be mine the moment I saw you and her."
"And shit if some part of me hates Rick because he left that little girl there. He shoulda-" a sob racked him, causing pain to shoot up his chest.

"Shhh..shh…" she told him, eyes blurry with tears.
"I know. Sophia was done here though, she was –" she pressed her forehead to his.

"I'm sorry I'm an ass. That I couldn't be more for you." He told her.
"I'm sorry I ne-nev-never tol-told you." He spluttered as she wiped a bit of blood from his mouth.
"Damnit, Carol. I love ya, more than anythin'." He grimaced, letting the pain and dizziness, and bloodloss take over him for a moment.
"Don' leaveme." He muttered. "please, don't. I don't wanna die alone. I don't wanna bealone." He looked so young, so scared. For a man who lived life like it was his last day everyday, he was surprised how much he wanted to live, how much he wanted to be here. How very pissed off he was that he wasn't given anymore time.
He didn't bother to tell her to leave again. He knew it would be useless, A useless thing to say.
He knew, if the position was inverted, if she were the one slowly being crushed to death, that he wouldn't leave her for anything.
Not for Merle, Not for Rick, not for Asskicker (though, that particular one would be a bit of a battle itself.)

"I won't leave." She whispered, kissing his lips slightly, her body bent over his.
"Iwon'tleave…" she pulled his hair back with soft hands again.
"you need a haircut." She muttered.
He let out a choked laugh.
"Gimmyone tomorrow?" he chuckled in a whisper.

"Kay…" she told him.
It was a few more minutes, as the sun rose higher, leaving the world in a dusky morning light, its soft tendrils of light trailing over the horizon, lighting the world alight and showing the carnage in full relief.

"You wouldabeen a good daddy." She told him, her heart broken into so many pieces. There would be no healing from this. She would die here, she knew. She would die holding the man she had come to love so very much.
His fingers twitched against her skin, leaving her with the impression he was grasping onto life.
"hmm." He said, not believing it, but enjoying the idea.

Suddenly, there was a hand over her, a man, dark skinned and dark eyed.
A Henchman.

She ducked over him, covering his head with her breast as a scream came from her throat.
there was a nipping, a biting on her chest. A tender kiss as they waited to die by the hands of the man as he raised his hand, a gun aimed.
They cringed as the gunshot went off, it was only when they were both still alive a moment later that the confusion settled in.

The world was a dull roar around their ears as the man shouted, pulling her away.
She didn't understand, didn't understand a word of it as he leaned over and slapped her face hard.
Daryl was bellowing with what strength he had left.
His arm reaching back as if to grab at her, only to land on the rotting flesh of a deceased walker.
Words such as "MINE!" and "IFYOUTOUCHER-!" and "STUPIDFRIGGENSPSICK" were grunted in anger as the handprint came harsh and red across her cheek, her eyes focusing slightly.
There also might have been ''wetback'' thrown in there as well.

"Help. Me." Those simple words were what came through to her as the man moved away from her.
And with a gasp of air, she had snapped to.
"Only got a minute" Martinez grunted.
"You grab hold your man, and you pull when I say." She nodded, hooking her hands under his armpits.
With an almighty yell, the man squatted down and pushed upwards, lifting the steel with a great creaking noise.
Carol pulled with all her might, watching Daryl's pained face twist into a hard grimace as he was pulled from the rubble.

The moment his feet were free, Martinez threw it down with a shout.
Daryl had passed out as blood gushed from the gash in his hip, but Martinez said nothing as he bent over and pulled the man in a firemans lift over his body. "MOVE!" He commanded of Carol, running as fast as he could with the man.
The world around her was the color of blood and the sent in the air was of charred flesh and burnt bone, Her mouth was covered against the smoke as Daryl was thrown into the bed of a truck with a sickening crunch.
Martinez then lifted Carol, threw her in before latching the tailgate and shouting at the man in the front to drive. "FORD! DRIVE!"
The bearded man in front waved his hand, taking off like a bottlerocket
The world spun around her as she heard the wails of a child.
She looked around, a tiny black boy was curled in the corner. His face was wrought with terror.
Daryl, who had a dazed look about his face, muttered a ''shhh…'' as he reached a hand out to touch the boy's bare foot, the closest thing to him. "bringwalkers." He muttered, his eyes drifting shut.

As she looked back, turning back on Sodom and Gomorra (and mildly surprised that she didn't turn into a pillar of salt) she saw the man standing there, looking at the town around him.
She mouthed a silent 'thank you' before she closed her eyes and took a breath.