I'm back with Story #2 for the site. This one will be a multi-chapter. It follows the show up until 4x11 and then veers off into it's own story. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to take it one of two routes. One will include tie ins with Terminus, the other is not circled around a specific part of the show really. We'll see how the feeling out of the story goes. Obviously it's Caryl.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. This is purely for a poor fangirls heart.

He had been with Joe's group for a week now, he had only claimed one thing for himself in all of that time, and more than anything it was to show that he was a willing participant in this life. He would adjust to their rules to survive with this new group, because this group might be all that he ever finds again. He had given way to hopelessness when his last connection to his group was carried away in a car he had never had any hope of reaching or tracking, no matter how hard he had lied to himself to keep moving. That was all the chase ever was. If he was moving forward, he would continue to breathe. In this world, Daryl Dixon was a master survivor and as much as it pained him to adapt to a group of men that was a monumental step back in his own personal character development, he would. He had to.

His crossbow dug into his shoulder, leaving a definite bruise from the loose way it bounced against him as they crossed the rough terrain. He hadn't spoken anymore than he had to since he joined up. He got glares and bumps and sneers and the likes from the others, but he'd just taken to hunting more and allowing each of them to claim the game he brought back to wherever camp was set up. He was the newest member and knew he was seen as the weakest by the men he traveled with - but he followed their rules and he carved himself out a place with them. He might not be a valued member of the group, but at least he felt now that most of these men at least saw him as a member. He kept them eating every night, that would have to be enough.

The sound of the creak up ahead of them was welcome, he felt his hand inching towards the empty water bottle shoved in one of his pockets, he would get a good drink and then refill it for the trek still ahead. His hand tightened on the bottle, hearing the cheaply manufactured plastic crinkle loudly in the silence of the early evening around them. His gaze lifted to see Joe lift up a hand, pulling out his weapon and Daryl noticed the light noise of disturbance that Joe must have picked up on. Something was walking through the water. A walker maybe? Obviously a shambler with nowhere in particular to go, because it wasn't really a sloppy sounding walk. Daryl twisted the crossbow from his shoulder up to his arm, walking closer to the noise, falling silent with the group so that they could access the situation.

He heard the hairpin curl of Joe's lips, rather than seeing it, he couldn't turn towards any of the men he was standing with, scattered through the treeline before the slight hill drop that lead to that cutting stream. His heart stopped beating and grasp tightened on the crossbow, finger touching the trigger, ready to pull it if he had to.

"Well lo-" Joe was going to marvel quietly to his group. Maybe even loud enough to garner attention. But he wouldn't be able to finish. It had to be done quickly so Daryl didn't even glance in their direction as he stepped out of the treeline towards the stream more.

"Claimed." His voice gruff and territorial, finger still poised and ready on that trigger should anyone try to challenge Joe's law and his claim. It was loud enough so that no one could argue that they didn't hear it. It was almost a yell. And it certainly got her attention as her head snapped up, causing her to pull the shirt she had been washing in the stream tightly against her chest.

"Atta boy." Joe nodded, amidst all of the groanings heard from the men around him. Women were a hot commodity in this world, and Daryl seemed to recognize that as well. He couldn't help but bristle with pride at his first big claim, even if he was a bit disappointed that the scrappy looking little woman was now off-limits to himself as well.

"Daryl." It was barely a breath as her gaze shot up to the men standing a ways off behind him, feeling his fingers dig into her side and start to draw her forwardd towards himself in a very territorial stance. It made her pulse race.

"The hell you doin'? Get your shirt on." Despite his words, the relief in his tone is paramount and his grasp is as desperate as ever. She pulled on her top and his arm wound about her waist, drawing her up tight against his chest, and for the benefit of the men drooling like a pack of wild dogs behind him - he claimed her a second time. This time his lips locked tightly against hers, rough and hot and all-consuming.

It made Carol's knees go weak