Tara

The adrenaline was finally starting to leave my system after we escaped Terminus, and damn was I out of it.

We hadn't been fed in that train car, (and by the sound of it, that's a plus. I'd rather starve than have a cannibal barbeque.) There was no way in Hell we could sleep in there, not knowing what those crazy bastards were going do to us. All we could do was anxiously prep for an attack and make weapons out of earrings and belt buckles.

In that time, I got to know my fellow captives a bit. Glenn was the closest thing to a friend I had among the group. Which is shocking, to say the least, since I was a small but still existing reason that his home got blown up and zombified.

That's when I got to know Maggie some more, just a little. And I can't blame Glenn for searching endlessly for her. I would if there was even a chance she wasn't straight and head-over-heels for the Korean.

She was passionate, and faithful. And as much a believer as Glenn was in that their family is nearly indestructible. It was refreshing, considering the constant hopelessness this world brought on. Glenn said she was the spitting resemblance, emotionally, of her father. My stomach dropped with guilt when he told me that.

The kid, Carl, is like steel for a fifteen year old. Not that I blame him. If Meghan had had a chance to grow up in this shitstorm of a world, she would've inevitably gotten cold for a child too. But he was smart like his dad, Rick.

Rick is a freight train. He's the leader, hands down. Even with Abraham and his bulging biceps and military experience, he doesn't hold a candle to Rick's controlling nature. Even though his eyes held a flame of crazy, I still felt safe under his commands. He'd reassured us that they were screwing with the wrong people. His words left me ready to fight and defend.

The samurai chick stood by his side the entire time. She was silent for the most part, but she would chime in occasionally. The only other times she would talk was when she was mumbling strategies with Rick and comforting Carl while his father would discuss possible weapons with Abraham, Maggie, and the Hunter.

That's when I learned a bit about Daryl.

He was rough. The silent, broody type. He only talked with his previous prison group and barely spared a glance at us newcomers. Eugene had made a snarky comment about his silence being relative to his IQ and I thought Daryl was going to sock him upside the head until Abraham interfered.

He took Lone Wolf status to the next level. There were periods where we would split into our…'families', I guess you could say. Rosita and Abraham would sit close, with Eugene not too far off. Maggie and Glenn would be absorbed into one another. Rick, Michonne, and Carl would huddle together, with Carl's head resting on Michonne's shoulder, and Michonne leaning on Rick. Bob and Sasha had gotten pretty intimate since I had met them, holding hands and mumbling positive reinforcements to one another about what was to come…

That left me with the hunter.

I'd cross my arms over my knees and rest my chin on my pile of limbs and just absorb the outcast.

He'd sit with his back to the car and stare at this little green stone. His expression would bounce around from thoughtful and concentrated, to slightly distraught, back to just so tired.

At one point I got curious and brave with the fact that we could literally die any minute. So I plopped down a few feet away from him one day and he gave me a glare.

"Leave me be." He mumbled, his voice soaked with defeat.

"I don't want to bother you." I looked over to him. "I just don't have anyone else to sit next to. I figured since we were both lonely, we could be lonely together."

"I'll pass." He shifted his body so that his back was to me, all the while staring at the damn stone still.

"Fine," I sighed. "Just answer me this so the curiosity doesn't kill me." He tilted his head a bit in my direction, allowing me to keep going.

"What's the story with the rock?"

His body tensed, looking back down at the mentioned green pebble. He folded the rock up into his large calloused hand and brought his fist up to his mouth, contemplating. I'm not sure what, but he sat there like that for a long time.

I started to get up, assuming he was just blowing me off and preferring to go down memory lane, when his voice stopped me.

"It was…for a friend."

I waited eagerly for him to continue. But believe it or not, that's where he left me hanging.

I tried to encourage him to tell me more. "Where is your friend?"

That silenced him. He glared harshly at me and it sent a chill down my spine from the ferocity behind it. I should've known it was a sensitive subject. This 'friend' meant a lot to him, clearly, and he was stuck here, away from said friend. Or maybe his friend was dead. Or maybe his friend had turned, which is far worse than death.

"I-I'm sorry." I mumbled, intimidated by his glare. I knew better than to touch him as a reassuring comfort. He might've bitten me or something. "I shouldn't have-"

"I told you the story. Now leave me be." The tone in his voice shifted from his earlier defeat to a stony demand. I stood up and made my way back over by Glenn and Maggie. I continued to watch him though (he never said I couldn't, right?), and our convo had left him much deeper in thought, and to add to my guilt, even sadder than before. I never saw any emotion on the Hunter besides determination and misery.

Now as I stand here, watching Daryl envelope this mystery woman into his arms with an expression nothing short of pure joy, I can't help but turn away. The moment is so intimate and raw—it's almost like watching two people have sex. It was a moment just for them, just between them. I can tell as he crushes her in what is probably the sweetest hug ever, and she grips him even tighter—that she is his person.

She's the story behind the rock.

"I'm glad you found your friend, Daryl." I whisper as her hands cradle his face and he rests his head on her chest. The Hunter deserved someone to make him smile like that.