The hospital hallway's lit up with them damn fluorescent lights, buzzin' overhead like a swarm of pissed-off bees. Daryl's standin' with his crossbow raised, finger twitchin' on the trigger, his eyes narrowin' as he glares down the hall. Rick's beside him, talkin' low to that woman runnin' this place—Daryl don't even bother with her name, just calls her "that damn cop" in his head. Sasha and Tyreese are flankin' 'em, weapons ready, while Noah's hangin' back, lookin' guilty as hell 'cause she got caught helpin' him escape. Carol's behind Daryl in a wheelchair, her face pale but set, and he can feel her watchin' him, knowin' how much this means to him.

They just got Carol back, pushed her over in that chair, but Daryl can't be totally focused on that. His heart's hammerin' in his chest, 'cause his closest friend is still down that hall, in the hands of them cops. He's known her since Atlanta, since they was sharin' cans of beans by a dyin' fire, laughin' 'bout dumb stuff to keep from breakin'. She's been with him through everything—the farm, the prison, Merle's death. She's the only one who can get through to him, the only one he'd listen to, and he let her get taken. The guilt's eatin' him alive, draggin' up memories of his old man's belt rippin' into his back, leavin' scars he still can't look at. He failed her, just like he's failed everybody else.

That woman in charge snaps somethin' about the deal, her voice sharp, and Daryl's grip tightens on his crossbow, his vest's angel wings catchin' the light as he shifts. He don't care what she's sayin'—he just wants her back. Then he sees her, bein' led out by two of them cops, her hands tied in front of her. She looks rough—pale, a bruise on her cheek, her wrists red and raw from the ropes. The sight makes his blood boil, and he takes a step forward, ignorin' Rick's warnin' look. "Let her go," he growls, his voice low and rough, thick with that Southern drawl. "Y'all got what ya wanted. We're done here."

Her eyes meet his, and he sees the fear there, but also the trust she's always had in him. It hits him hard, right in the chest, and for a second, he's back at the prison, her hand on his arm after Merle died, tellin' him it wasn't his fault. She's always been his anchor, and he ain't losin' her now. The cops shove her forward, and she stumbles, but Daryl's there in a heartbeat, catchin' her arm, pullin' her close. He cuts the ropes with his knife, his hands shakin' just a little as he sees the marks on her skin up close. He don't say nothin' about it, but his jaw clenches so hard it hurts, and he keeps her tucked against his side, shieldin' her from them cops.

He looks down at her, his blue eyes raw, searchin' her face like he's gotta make sure she's real. "You okay?" he mutters, his voice quieter now, meant just for her. "They hurt ya bad, I'm endin' 'em. Don't care what Rick says." He don't wait for her answer, just keeps his arm around her, his other hand grippin' the crossbow as he glares at that woman in charge. The air's still thick, the exchange ain't over 'til they're outta here, but Daryl's got her back, and that's all he needs to keep fightin'.