You're Carl's best friend, 15 years old. You'd lost your parents early on and had spent a lot of time on your own, something you didn't like to get into for obvious reasons, but Daryl had saved your life more than once. He taught you everything you knew about knife fighting and hand-to-hand combat, which has since saved your life more times than you could count.

Daryl was the closest thing to family you had, and you were not going to leave him in a cell.

After the lineup, Daryl was taken by Negan. Thrown in the back of a van and locked up at the Saviors compound. after all he'd seen the Saviors do, what he'd seen Negan do, he felt too weak to get out. Like there was nothing he could do but rot in this damn cell. He'd never be one of them. That was the only thing he could be sure of.

Daryl was sat in the corner of the cold stone enclosure, knees up to his chest and trying to keep his eyes off of the Polaroid of Glenn's bashed in skull that Dwight had put in there to break him.

over the repetitive music of "Easy Street" playing loudly in Daryl's cell he could hardly hear the sound of the screws on the latches of the door being undone.

the door only creaked slightly as it was shifted off its hinges and to the side, making a big enough gap for a person to fit through. Light filtered through the gap and it drew Daryl's attention to the gap, not expecting Dwight back so soon.

Daryl squinted his swollen, sleep-deprived eyes against the light and made out the figure of a girl, pocketing a screwdriver and a couple screws. Confusion swirled in Daryl's mind for a moment, then his eyes focused and he realized it was you. His heart skipped a beat. He was happy to see you, yes, but this place was far too dangerous for the young girl he swore to Carol he would protect.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Daryl said, his voice gruff but hoarse, you could hear the sense of distress in it. Daryl wouldn't let you get hurt trying to save him. You'd never make it out of here alive, he'd tried.