Guilt ate at Daryl like termites on wood, gnawing at his bones until he was fairly sure he was nothing but a hollow shell of himself.

Daryl was left shaken after seeing two of his friends — his family — get their heads bashed in. One of them being his fault, which Dwight made sure to remind him of daily, constantly taunting him about Glenn's death being on his conscience. The polaroids didn't help. The music certainly didn't help either.

What was worse was knowing how much he had failed you. You were like a kid to him, even if he'd never admit to such a thing out loud. He practically was the one to raise you, and yet he still managed to fail you. Just like his father had failed him. The look in your eyes as they hauled him away, the way you sobbed even harder, your small hands trembling—

At one point, Daryl managed to tune it all out.

At one point, he managed to escape the Sanctuary.

At one point, he ended up in Hilltop.

Daryl heard the wooden gates creak open as Maggie's voice sounded out across the community, sounding more ecstatic than ever. Stepping out to check the commotion, Daryl spotted everyone. His brother. The rest of his family. You. The fatherly part in him wanted to approach you and make sure you were alright, to hold you in his arms and never let go. Though, he didn't think he could face you without spiraling all over again.

But those dark circles visible from miles away and that upsetting frown broke his guilt-ridden heart into even more pieces.

Silently, he reluctantly walked over to you, eyes brimmed with tears — mainly happy ones, this time. He had never felt so much relief before, so much comfort knowing that you were alive and breathing and safe.

The lump in his throat grew bigger, making any words die on the tip of his tongue. Daryl was never one for sappy speeches, anyways. Actions always spoke louder than words.

And so, he took you in his arms, hugging you so tightly almost as if he was trying to take away all your pain.