He watched her mind roll through the onslaught of emotions she'd bottled in the corners of her soul; three days later and the influx periods of debilitating, un-moving silence still crept in. His heart broke to see her penetrating blues glaze over, if out of nowhere, stripping away her smile. Daryl could even tell when the nightmares stormed within her sleeping body unbeknownst to her thoughts; the increased quiver of a heartbeat settled close into his flank, almost pulsing flinches of nerves under his cheek atop her hairline, the way her breathing became shallow and muted. He prayed it never happened while he was deeply asleep, but no one was that lucky anymore.

She'd tried to keep the mood light during the lulls of calm, for both his benefit and in an attempt to retain her sanity; catching him off-guard with attentive touches amidst mundane activities, purposefully trying to fluster him. It was a tortuous dance. Wanting to be as close to her as he wanted to, as she'd wanted him, but needing to protect her against anyone and anything; even themselves.

He couldn't let her bury it under their feelings, she needed to feel it.

The bed stirred alongside of him as Carol shifted further into the crook of his arm, her warm breath trailing down the bareness of his chest. In the darkness of the night behind fastened curtains, barely noticeable imperfections were shrouded, allowing his gaze to drink in her exquisiteness without consideration of his exposed back. Her eyes lay softly closed as her chest loafly expanded more so than he'd recalled in days.

Wanting to remember every aspect he traced the curved edge of his index finger gently over the ridge of her nose, ghosting to the blush, soft meat of her lips.

If he was dreaming he never wanted to wake-up.

The early mornings were always the easiest; her thoughts still fuzzy enough to keep away raw emotions, focusing on the glow from the man alongside her. He looked exhausted from the last night's watch only hours before, his face buried equally beneath unwashed hair and a folded pillow, out cold to the waking house around them.

She needs to get up and moving, she thought, try to find something in the house substantial to eat which hasn't already been devoured; one can only live on fruit and bread for so long.

They had managed to catch a few rabbits the day before, the surrounding graveyard teeming with them more so than she remembered being; though before she didn't have Daryl Dixon. She'd tried to encourage him into venturing further on his own in an attempt to bring back larger game and give him a much-deserved break as her keeper, but he'd hear none of it. He hadn't let her out of his proximity following her 'breakdown'. Even less so when she and Rick were in the same room. Neither she nor Rick had said a word to each other, just the exchanging of awkward looks with heads ducking or eyes falling downward; she wasn't sure what'd she would even say to him. Once upon a time, he had even respected her unapologetic candor. The timing may have been wrong but she wasn't sorry for what she'd said, for standing up for herself.

Carol reluctantly extracts herself from their intertwined limbs coming to rest upright on the edge of the bed, glancing back over her shoulder at the sight that brings a smile to her face.

His entire upper body bared to the sharpening light of the morning, the hem of his jeans calling attention to the lines of his abdomen; she bit her lip and let her mind wander back to that night.

Maggie and Jesus materialized in the silent midnight hours in the kitchen as Carol rose from the table, handing over the rifle and squeezing the other woman's arm. Reaching behind she grabbed one of Ezekiel's pomegranates and set it against Maggie's open palm, who shook her head pushing back the fruit.

"Don't make go queen bitch on you," she coyly smiled, returning the pomegranate back into Maggie's resigning grip. Daryl moved in with a hand resting on Carol's lower back.

"All quiet on the western front?" Jesus asked. Daryl returns an affirming grunt, headed for the back room. "Try to keep it down back there," a muted chuckle broke.

Daryl's left shoulder rotated, offering up a lone middle finger.

The moment the door clicks behind them she locked her lips against his, feeling his hum vibrate through his migrating hands behind her neck. Languid movements heightening when the tinge of her tongue moves across his bottom lip, being immediately enveloped by his, following into her mouth. Determined fingers begin working on the buttons of his shirt, pressing deeply against the exposed flesh underneath; shaking the remainder of the material loose as he strains her back to him. Just as abruptly as it started he pulls back, throwing his head back with an exacerbated growl, returning his forehead softly to hers. "We really should get some sleep."

"You're a damn tease, Dixon."

Carol replaces the rigging of her sling back to its correct positioning, refusing to fasten the clasp that held the arm to her chest; she couldn't get anything done being so restricted, more of a hindrance than anything. She wanders to the foot of the bed, picking his crumpled shirt up off the floor.

He deserves to have a few more hours of peace, there's nothing about breakfast she can't handle alone.

Something shiny slides to bounce off the hardwood from the outstretched garment; the long beaded, metallic chain coils upon itself, leaving the gold sharpened cross out like a rejected sign. Her peripheral vision tightens with the fullness behind her eyes, stomach twisting, the sensation of warm liquid coating her hand and dripping down to the wrist.

The sound of listless shuffling giving rise to knocks in the hallway wall alerts Michonne from her resting point within the bay window, securing her sword from its sheath as she creeps towards the sonance. Passing sleeping members of her family, her heart raced in expectation of the worst; walkers broken in, or had Negan's men found them, had they been double-crossed?

When the sound ceased inches nearby in front of her, she inhaled raising the sheen towards the ceiling, hurtling within the uncovered area to be jarred paralyzed.

A silhouette of a woman leans occupying space in the hall, tenantless eyes sluggish to focus on stimuli as her nails dig into the core of the micro twill sleeve. Her silver curls scrunched in between plaster and scalp; chest shaking three or four times with each breath taken.

"Carol? Carol, come... sit down." Taking her in hand to the kitchen table, hulling her weapon to attend to the empty reflection of her friend. "You want me to get Daryl?"

"No, he doesn't need to deal with this... I just need a minute." sharply replying, bringing her touch to her temples. The pounding fullness wound down to the base of her skull, towing waves of nausea from her stomach's lining; all she could think to do was fixate on the movement of air through her lungs.

Michonne's hand came to rest upon her wrist, "Carol, you can't live like this... it's going to kill you."

"Hasn't yet in the fifteen plus years since I started up with Ed," a miffed muffle crawling out from her covered face. The unmistakable sentiment of someone's eyes laying upon you settles into her soul, unrelenting for minutes before she frees her face, groaning at the increased gravitational pressure.

"When I first came to the group, do you remember how I was? In my own little world surrounded by walls, not letting anyone in, not wanting to be a part of this. I was just surviving," Michonne stared directly into her without relinquishing contact to Carol's wrist. "Didn't want to feel nothing, it was easier that way. After losing my family, my son; caring only brought more pain."

Carol watches Michonne's eyes finally break; their shared pain of losing a child only just now becoming known to her, tears welling behind both sets of eyes.

"But still you guys found your way in, made me see that I couldn't do it on my own, that I didn't have to. It made me stronger because of it."

"Was never about not being able to care, I couldn't stop... couldn't stop caring," her fingers begin to play in the grain of the wood, putting some physical sensation to what's running through her head. "I had something I loved and couldn't live without, and this time, I was able to do something to protect it; but what I was willing to do-"

Another comforting hand came to curl around hers, weaving together a clutch filled with fierce understanding. Michonne tossed her head slightly to the direction of the living room. "There is nothing I wouldn't do in this world for those people; for those two kids dreaming in there. I'd throw myself on a herd of walkers if it meant they would live one more day. I know you feel the same; the way Judith looks at you, like you bring the sun out each morning."

Carol's heart throbbed. That innocent little girl, Maggie's unborn child; they shouldn't have to see what awaits them in this world, what people are prepared to do to each other.

"But it's not only me that gets hurt... the things I've done, people still die."

"We don't get to know if what we're doing is right in the moment, we just have to wait and see. I've never questioned your motives behind anything, you've always done everything for everyone else. I trust you with my life."

A nonchalant laugh escapes her chest, carrying away some of the crushing tension with it. "You talked to Rick about that? Not sure what I am according to him anymore; a liability, an emotionless hired gun?" Apparently, she still had some pent-up anger.

"Rick's a man; he thinks of things how he thinks they ought to be, you see the way it needs to be. He does care, he's just been treading water for so long and now with Negan, he's simply trying not to drown. It's better when I make him confide in me, especially when he doesn't want to... you talked to Daryl?"

Carol closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I can't even deal with the things in my head sometimes... how can I ask him to take that on?"

"You're not asking. You two are stronger together, he's not going anywhere so let him help,"

She knew Michonne was right, her drained emotional state was wrecking them both mentally and physically. It couldn't go on. Feeling her legs ground back with strength below her, she moved from the table to go back to their room. The touch on her wrist contracted.

"You're not some monster... you're just human, imperfect like the rest of us." The corners of her mouth turned upwards along with her shrugged shoulders. "Sorry."

"Pretty imperfect to be having dreams about talking to Merle Dixon," her own smile enlarged tenfold by the sheer shock and awe of Michonne's expression. Carol raised her eyebrows "He was actually pretty helpful."

The long pause was fragmented by a roaring fit of laughter pouring out from both women, drawing tears from their eyes and eliciting movement and murmurs from the adjoining room. They managed to quell the brief hysteria, Michonne speaking as Carol squeezed her hand once more in gratitude. "Promise me you'll take some time; not go anywhere, but just try to remember how to breathe again?"

Only feet from the room the bedroom door flew open, Daryl positioned frantic in the opening, his shirt half-open and misaligned. He pounced, throwing his arms around her neck, towing her down into his chest against his battering heartbeat. "I'm sorry, should've never picked it up. Grabbed it the night I thought I'd lost ya, wasn't thinking... thought you'd left again." His skin was vibrating; she secured his head on her shoulder, massaging into the roots of his hair.

"Hey shhh, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm still here."

In the early evening, they headed into the enclosing fields. His hand linked in hers, both their weapons secured over his shoulder; despite her insistence to differing grunts. If humanity was dead, at least Daryl was keeping chivalry alive.

She had no plan for where they were going or what they were doing, and for a few hours, she planned on not caring. Carol wanted to appreciate the little things in life; the way the sun shone between the overhanging leaves, the peacefulness in silence, the warmth from Daryl's hand that radiated up her arm. His heart so honest and caring, she wondered how she'd been the one he'd chosen to love and be next to her after all that she'd done.

As if he sensed her unease he pulled her closer to him, draping their arms around the back of her middle. She sighed happily, letting her head fall back into the crook of his shoulder; they moved in silence, nothing else needed to be said.

The forest opened to a clearing encircling a small, yellow, single-story cottage. Wildflowers rose through the deadening foliage ground cover in a last attempt to bloom before the frost. Daryl's banging on the crumbling siding produced nothing but distant bird songs, handing over her rifle before opening the door, moving effortlessly in sync to clear the empty building.

Carol headed straight for the teenie, dismal kitchenette opening up every drawer and cupboard; she found only a few canned vegetables, leaving the pickled onions where they lay. She turned when finished to place a small bottle of hot sauce into her collecting that Daryl was already piling in his bag, pausing with a skeptical look at the condiment. "You'll thank me when Maggie starts having cravings," as she tossed it in, jabbing her elbow against his back. "Oh my God, I always wanted one of these."

He turned to observe her standing next to a long, bowed in the middle, overly plush chair looking thing. The pillows on top of it were covered in a fabric that even he could tell was twenty years out of date.

"Ya wanted a chair?"

She playfully batted his arm with the back of her hand. "It's a chaise lounge, thank you very much. It's like a couch, recliner, and chair all in one. Never was able to afford one on my own when I was younger, and when I married Ed we didn't need to be spending 'his hard earned money on useless crap'. Funny that it takes the end of the world before the universe will give you what you want." Letting her body fall unceremoniously to atop the piece, she stretched out letting her hip turn slightly inwards to swivel the lines of her body.

"We could just take it back ta your place, gotta be more comfortable than that damn kid's chair in the corner," he tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

Carol slid over to one side, patting the open space next to her. She relaxed her head back along the exaggerated back as he slid beside her, moving around a couple times before seeming to get comfortable enough. The palpation of fingertips inside his forearm spun his face to find hers.

"That isn't my home," her blue eyes boring into him. "My home's where ever you are."

"What are we doin'?" he whispered. pressing their foreheads together.

"... breathing."

The softness of her lips road out the response offered by his, moving overtop with a palpable restraint that implored her to increase her fervor. Leaning her body to his, her restrained arm tangling its fingers amidst his shirt, one of his leaving its positioning to find purchase behind her head. She hummed instantly as his tongue glided along hers; teeth traipsing the flesh of his bottom lip with desire. His breathing picked up, but was overshadowed by the drawn-out rumble he let out as his rough palm picked up pace gliding against her pelvis. Seizing the opportunity she looped her fingers under the length of his belt rolling them over to her straddled above his waist, releasing her grip only to slide her fingers along the inside of his shirt. His eyes rolled back behind his closed lids, he was losing any resolve he may have.

"I'm fine," she urged, deepening the kiss, releasing tingles each brief moment they separated.

"Prove it."