Hellatus Rewatch 2015: Season 3 Episode 6 - Hounded

“That’s Carol’s knife,” he uttered.
She’d fought back, he thought, devastated over the thought of her in danger, once again too close to hands that sought maimed her.
Cain’t thank about that.
He shut his mind off before straying too far down that path, steely eyes glaring at the bastard who’d likely seen her alive last. Every muscle in him screamed to let loose on the walker before him. He felt Carl’s eyes on him and held his peace, scraping the blood from the knife onto the walker.
He gripped the handle hard. “Go back.”
“Daryl, I can help.”
He heard the compassion in the boy’s voice, and it grated. Ached. “I got it,” he ground out.
“Come on,” Oscar muttered.
He listened to their footsteps echo away before rising and moving down the hall. The one door they hadn’t opened remained still. His feet moved faster as he approached it, and his hand shot up to fling the door open.
He froze.
She could be in there.
What was left of her could be in there.
His hand dropped and he doubled over gasping for breath, hands on his knees preventing him from collapsing.
He wasn’t ready.
He’d never be ready.
He backed away from the door until the wall stopped him, and he slid down in defeat. He didn’t know if he could do it.
He wouldn’t let anyone else do it.
Pangs of loneliness, fear, regret for all he hadn’t said to her, and white hot anger swirled inside of him like an ugly concoction of grief.
He couldn’t do it yet.
He felt her knife against the skin of his palm, and he slowly eased his grip until it lay flat. He stared at the handle, scarred but sturdy, the blade, bloodied but gleaming in the dim light overhead.
A remnant of Carol. Her indomitable spirit. Handy. Sturdy. Scarred and scathed but reflecting light like no one he’d ever known. Sticking it to the world with her last breath.
He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, slamming the knife into the concrete floor before him.
The noise echoed a bit, but stray walkers were the last thing on his mind.
The door across from him starting moving again.
He stabbed the knife into the ground. That rile you up? Again. Me too. Again. I’mma kill you. Again. Son of a bitch. He slammed the knife into the wall behind him, reveling in the noise. I’mma kill you. Again. I’MMA KILL YOU, he screamed silently.
In one fluid movement, he stood up and kicked the door. HOW COULD YOU?
He heaved breaths into his lungs. He felt caged, chained to the figure behind the door, hellbent on putting down the walker that’d killed Carol. His blood ran white hot, and he paced away from the door.
And froze for a second.
What if she’s turned? What if it’s her in there?
His heartbeat raced, and he stomped the other way. Either way, he’d finish the job using Carol’s knife. He dragged the doorstop walker out of the way and threw the door open, knife at the ready.
His eyes moved around the empty cell. What the hell? He dropped his gaze, landing on a form.
Her form.
He peered in to be sure, hesitant and afraid she’d turned. Her head angled toward him, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.
Blue eyes.
He had to be sure.
He knelt down and reached for her face, tenderly encouraging her eyes to meet his again. He had to see in the light.
Her eyes closed, and he ran his hands over her, checking for bites and scratches. Not a one.
“Daryl,” she croaked, voice barely a whisper.
“I’m here. Hold on.”
He snatched up the crossbow, looped it over his torso, and bent down to her. He laid his palm against her neck, needing to touch her—living, breathing—and testing her pulse at the same time. “Hey,” he murmured. Her eyes opened and lit upon him. “You with me?” She nodded her head lightly, and it was all he could do not to overwhelm her with his relief. “Stay with me.”
He slid one hand behind her back, the other under her knees.
God, she was fragile.
He lifted her easily. “I gotcha.”
“I know,” he heard her mumble, breath fanning his neck.
She closed her eyes again, and he moved down the hall, anxious to get her food, water, sleep, hugs. Anything to keep her heartbeat going.
He rounded the final corner to their cellblock and glanced down her at resting form, safe in his arms. Breathing.
Relief overwhelmed him, and he felt tears prick his eyes. Alive.
He didn’t know how. Didn’t much care as long as she was still here with him. He wanted—needed—to be near her. Protect her. Watch over her.
To hell with the perch, he thought. She ain’t leavin’ my sight.[x]

anonymous asked:

How come there aren't any Caryl playlists on Spotify? I'm sure everyone has considered at least one song to be relevant to the ship, even a cheesy one. There should be a place where all those songs are collected and playlists on Spotify can be public. This should happen, if it hasn't already! Everyone can pick faves and try and guess what the official make out song will be! I mean Bear McCreary is great but I hear lyrics w/these two not instrumental! List making should start now!


- first mate thereadersmuse

I love protective!Daryl but the queen seems not to be so amused by him. lol
queen-carol requested some cute scene where Daryl makes sure Carol eats, drinks and is okay.
I’m sorry it took me this long to make it, you can kick my ass if you want. D:

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