"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." ~ William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

It started the way all good things did between them. It started with a meal. "The Last Supper," Carol called it, to lighten the tension that had crept between them the night Daryl found her in the house she fled to outside the Kingdom. It wasn't truly the beginning; their story began long ago on a crowded highway in Atlanta, just as the world was coming to an end. But in that small candlelit house, somewhere in the Virginia countryside, it was the beginning of a new chapter, even though to Daryl and Carol, it felt like another ending.

Feeding him was the way she had always taken care of him; the routine brought some sense of normalcy to the awkwardness that had returned. They ate in silence which they sometimes did, especially during that first winter on the road together. Candlelight shimmered around them.

"You always make it taste good," Daryl complimented her after he finished his last bite of the rabbit stew. "I'm gonna miss that." His lips turned up halfway into a shy, melancholic smile when she looked up at him.

Stretching her arm across the table, she rested her hand on his, expressing her gratitude. They sat there for a moment, unmoving as a wistful silence bloomed. Daryl felt the warmth from her hand sink into his bones and wondered if he would ever see her again. As the fear gripped him, he turned his palm over to meet hers and slowly let his fingers slide along hers until their hands fit together.

Fit together. That's exactly what he always felt; somehow she fit him perfectly and made everything easier. Carol understood him as he had come to understand her. He watched her back when she stuck her neck out too far; she reined him in when he bridled. They took care of each other in a way no one ever had. They made a good team. They were partners. His heart sank from the way it sat on him. It seemed strange and sad that he was only now willing to admit that just as he needed to let her go. Others were depending on him. He had to return to Alexandria to help Rick and Maggie fight the Saviors and end their reign of terror. Daryl wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't. Not when he could help do something about it. Especially after what they lost, after what Negan had done to them.

The fire crackled behind him as Daryl looked at Carol, knowing they didn't have much time left, unsure he could tell her all that he felt about her, what she meant to him, and have it all make a lick of sense. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to be safe. That's why he lied to her, told her everything was fine when it was far from it. The truth would have devastated her—at least that's what she led him to believe. But the truth he knew; she was forged in fire, and thus, too strong to break. Maybe someday she would see.

It was quite enchanting how her blue eyes gleamed with a tender-hearted brilliance and made him forget himself. Light and shadow danced across her face as he committed to memory every freckle and line on it. Her graying hair had grown another inch since he'd seen her. It suited her, he thought to himself, the casual way she wore it. Beneath his hand, her skin was soft, but her fingertips were toughened with callouses from all her hard work. His heart ached that she wanted to do it all alone now. Daryl absorbed her, until he started to leak. He wanted to remember everything about her.

Daryl was staring at her as if he wanted to say something, his eyes a watery blue that made her feel like she was treading water. She felt his thumb gently rub against the back of her hand like he was tossing her a lifeline. Now that they were here, Carol found she wasn't prepared to say goodbye to this man who had saved her life, but knew it was coming soon. Sooner than she'd like, and she was the one who had asked to be left alone.

As the moment marched on, his gaze saddened; she knew that goodbyes were hard for him, but what she had done to him was worse. She had left him, disappeared into the night without so much as a word after they'd buried Denise. Carol knew how much she had hurt him when he showed up at her door, drooping like a kicked dog. Broken. Hesitant. It was in his voice; she had broken his heart after all that time she had spent helping him put it back together. She was cruel; all the more reason she needed to stay away. She couldn't hurt him again.

She couldn't look away, either. Every part of herself was holding on, incapable of letting go. How did one let go of someone so essential? Someone who had shaped her into the woman she had always wanted to be, a woman she had nearly been. A woman of honor. Daryl had taught her she could become the rescuer she always dreamed of; she could save herself—until she couldn't. Until she couldn't save anyone. Carol didn't want this moment to end. Nor say goodbye to the one person to whom she owed everything. The one person who made her believe. His fingers felt like rough cotton against her skin. Letting it soothe her, she let her fingers ghost across his hand in return.

The motion of her fingers summoned him from his spell. His hand relaxed and he released his grip on her, trailing his hand up her wrist to rest on her forearm, his fingers still caressing her skin as they remained entranced. Again, she mimicked his action, letting her hand slide up his arm as if drawn by a magnet. Their eyes were locked on each other; neither capable of looking away; between them an irresistible force was building, expanding, holding them there. The energy surged, crackling and sparking as it strengthened, powerfully pulling them closer. Crystalline and glistening, her eyes were such an unfathomable blue, Daryl felt himself suddenly falling forward until he was stumbling on his feet, shattering the distance between them, kissing her awkwardly on the lips.

Her hands raised to his face automatically, holding him against her. His first kiss languished and became more steady, as if he had been reassured it was welcomed simply by her touch. It was a chaste kiss, but full of yearning. Their lips fused as they lingered together.

Slowly, he drew away to catch his breath. Her eyes were damp, troubling him. He couldn't believe this was the end; it was unfair. There was still so much she needed to know. He kissed her again, angrily, heaving her from her seat as if to wrench the sorrow from her.

His hands at her waist, his kiss grew desperate as he felt the minutes slipping by. Everything he wanted to say, everything he felt, he poured from his lips, needing her to know.

Before she realized what was happening, her body was responding to him, bending, yielding, opening, and she parted her lips, letting his tentative tongue find hers. Soon, her fingers were twining in his hair; she tugged at his locks, drawing him nearer as the kiss swelled. His hands slipped behind her back, lifting her off her heels as he pressed her closer, and she quivered with an electric tingle that ran down to her toes. The ache in the core of her being grew as she discovered how much she needed this man.

The kiss turned salty and Daryl knew she was crying. Leaning against the table and drawing her between his legs, he enclosed her in his embrace, wanting to protect her, wanting her to know his anguish, wanting to feel her as close as possible. It was his last chance; his despair was clawing at him from the inside, tightening, constricting, binding him to her. Meanwhile, her arms were clinging to him, her hands gripping at the collar of his shirt as her tongue explored his.

Unexpectedly, Carol stepped back, eyes dark and breathing hard, removing first her outer denim shirt, then after a pause, she pulled the gray t-shirt over her head, revealing the pale and freckled skin beneath. Daryl stared at her eyes in disbelief and then seemed to find the courage to let his slide down to the lacy black bra she was wearing. His heart was hammering in his chest. She took his hand, and placed it on her breast over her bra, urging him to touch her. The textured fabric was rough under his fingers compared to the delicate skin of her breast. The contrast felt strange and invigorating at the same time. He looked at her with awe and wonder.

Keeping her gaze, he daringly let his finger slip slowly under the fabric and across her rounded flesh until it brushed against her nipple. She closed her eyes and moaned as he drew a slow circle around it and felt it stiffen. Her reaction enticed him, rousing him. Crooking his finger, he pulled at the fabric of the bra, making her step closer to him.

Carol opened her eyes again, straight into his molten gaze. His hungry lips ravaged hers, while his hands roamed the smooth skin on her back. Tasting him, being surrounded by his arms, feeling the power and strength of his embrace, his passion, she felt desired and wanted more.

He felt her fingers working on the buttons of his shirt and he stopped, his breath was fast and shallow as he watched her, his jaw went slack. He began to melt, sinking downwards, captivated by the tender way her fingers brushed against him. Soft as a feather, she kissed his collarbone and let her gentle fingers splay across his chest and drift up to his shoulders before pushing the shirt over them and down his arms, letting it fall to the table. She kissed his chest, his neck, slowly making her way to his lips. The feeling of her touching him was better than he ever dared to imagine.

His kiss became lazy, less certain. The heat from her skin was sweltering, he felt feverish. Suddenly breaking the kiss, he grabbed her wrists lightly and tugged them away from where she was caressing him.

"Carol…" He sought her eyes. They were filled with grief and desire. Holding her gaze, he tried to make her understand. "We can't."

Her eyebrows pinched together in confusion or hurt, probably both, he figured. Rubbing his thumbs against the insides of her wrists, he tried to soothe her as he continued. "If we did this…" he explained in a soft, raspy voice, "I– I couldn't leave you after… And I gotta. I gotta go back."

He didn't tell her why, but she seemed to understand; he had other obligations, the people she left behind. Her eyes softened and she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Nodding at him, Carol stepped back, out of his grasp, resuming her dutiful role, and searched for her clothes on the ground.

Daryl shouldered his shirt back on and buttoned it up with regret. This was it.

There was distance between them now; one he couldn't push through. He felt cold and bereft without her pressed against him. For half a minute he wondered what would happen to Rick and Maggie if he never returned, if he just stayed with Carol like he wanted to. Made love to her the way she deserved. But then his thoughts turned to Maggie's baby, and he realized he couldn't stay away; he needed to be there. To support Maggie. To keep the baby safe. It was a debt he owed to Glenn.

Once she was dressed, Carol moved about quickly in the small room, blowing out the candles, clearing the dishes, erasing the evidence of their last meal together. She felt robotic just going through the motions, trying to survive the tyranny of this moment; she couldn't stop to think. She couldn't let herself feel it.

Daryl watched her with a sad ache in his chest, knowing he could not provide her with any comfort. She was on her own now, just as she wanted. It was all that was left to give her.

Silently, she walked him to the door, both of them moving with heavy footsteps. It opened to the empty night, and they stepped out onto the porch. Keeping his distance, he rushed out into the fresh air, trying to forget how good it felt when she touched him and realizing he never would.

His eyes adjusted to the lack of light; without her, he saw only darkness before him. His pace slowed the farther he got, but he couldn't risk one last look at her; he knew her eyes were filling with tears, and he just couldn't bear to see her like that. One step. Two. His heart lurched in his chest and he could go no further. Turning back around, he stared longingly at her. Once again, committing her face to his memory. This woman. This warrior. She was the best part of him, of his life. He couldn't bring himself to leave her. Quickly, he ran up the steps, pulling her into a final hug goodbye.

She embraced him and they clung to each other, lamenting what would never be. He dropped his nose to her shoulder and lingered in her scent, knowing he would never forget her.

"Watch out for yourself, alright?" Daryl made her promise him as he pulled away.

Her throat was too tight; she could only nod to him as he stepped down and away from her. Carol watched him leave with regret and ambivalence, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep herself from running after him. As she turned back towards the house, she felt her heart seize. Had she made a mistake, letting this man go? She turned back towards him, wanting to follow him to the ends of the earth, but knowing this was for the best, for both their sakes. Wasn't it? He disappeared into the shadows and was gone before the answer came. A chill went down her spine so she went back into the house and cried herself to sleep.