Hello again! I'm so so excited to finally be posting chapter 20! I had a blast at Philly Comicon, got to meet Norman, Jon and Michael again, along with Scott Wilson, Sarah Wayne Callies and Lauren Cohan, all such great people! Most of them were actually staying in our hotel! Rooker would just hang out at the hotel bar most nights, chilling with fans lol! But anywho, your reviews for the last chapter were so sweet and I just want you guys to know how much those kind words mean to me : ) I'm doing my best to live up to the Queen of Caryl title you've given me! I hope that this chapter blows your friggin' minds (like blam! brain matter on the walls type s***!) and that you have a crazy, good time with it! Also, special announcement once you make it to the last page! Yes; I know itsridiculously long, and I'm so sorry for the huge delay, my life doesn't allow for much writing time ! But there is some intense CARYL going on here…not even sure you guys can handle it! Friendly reminder that this fic is rated M. Enjoy ; ) And keep a cold compress handy…seriously!

Chapter 20: Break

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead…yet

Words were ringing in Rick's ears. Strange, distorted sounds were washing over him, but he didn't understand. He couldn't feel his legs, or the ground beneath his feet. The world seemed the shift, images blurring before his blood-shot eyes. For a moment, the deputy forgot where he was, who he was. He didn't know who the people were that surrounded him, their faces grainy, unrecognizable.

What do they want from me? Why are they yelling?

He winced as more harsh sounds were flung at him, stinging when they reached his ears. Struggling, the man slammed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. His jaw was clenched as he brought two heavy hands up to cover his ears. He took a shaky step backwards, away from all of the noise. "I….I don't know…I don't…" he mumbled to himself, eyes still closed, skull pounding. No matter how he tried, he couldn't escape their cries, angry, desperate sounds, reverberating painfully within the confines of his aching mind. He was breathing hard, sweat trickling from his temples as the onslaught continued. "What do you want from me?!" He hissed from between clenched teeth. But he knew they couldn't hear him.

Sucking a sharp breath into his burning lungs, Rick took another step back, nearly losing his footing. Hands still clamped over his ears, fingers tangling in his hair, Rick fought to remain standing, despite the weight he carried…the weight of that secret knowledge he'd been holding since the CDC…since Jenner whispered those three, terrible words to him just before the group fled the building. They'd been echoing in his brain, haunting him, every single day…he didn't want to believe them…

We're all infected….

But they were true; he knew that now. He'd seen it for himself. He'd stood in the clearing with the others, staring down at Patricia's corpse…at what she'd become. He knew it then, and he knew he couldn't keep the secret any longer. He'd tried, desperately to spare them from it…he didn't want it to be true. But it was no use…they'd seen the evidence.

They don't deserve this…not after everything…they don't need this in their heads…

But all of Rick's concern, all of his good intentions were meaningless now. And he didn't know what to do…He'd failed. Despite the chaos surrounding him, the storm of hurt, and resentment, colliding with his consciousness, Rick managed to focus, if only for an instant, on something concrete…something real.

Carl…

His breath caught in his throat as he thought of his son.

He'll know….

Rick tugged harder at his damp locks as he pictured the look on his son's face, once he learned the awful truth. "No…no…no…" He began to mutter, shaking his head. Suddenly, he remembered the farm….the heat of the sun as he'd sat on the porch steps. His mind had been heavy with doubt, worry. He remembered leaning forward, head in his hands, skin slick with sweat in the glaring brightness of the afternoon. Herschel had taken a seat beside him, offering counsel. Rick couldn't recall everything that was said that day…all the words exchanged as the two fathers sat on the creaking steps, but one thing stood out in his memory…the raw, honest fear he'd shared with Herschel…a fear that had plagued him each and every day…the deputy's own words echoed softly in his ears…

"Carl…he's the one thing I don't wanna fail…"

The good framer had done his best to reassure him, but now…standing on shaking legs, beneath the moon, surrounded by screaming, angry, frightened people…Rick knew that he'd failed…all of them. But the thought of Carl….of his son sharing in the secret knowledge that he'd tried so hard to keep to himself, was what broke Rick's resolve. Hating himself….hating everything, feeling utterly at a loss…knowing that he was responsible for all of the misery and rage falling from the lips of his friends, Rick Grimes crumbled. He let the weight of his world crash around him as he sunk clumsily to the wet grass, fingers still tangled in his hair, regret and desperation making his body tremble. Mumbles and mutterings, incoherent to the others, were still pouring from the deputy as he held his head in his hands. "I…didn't want…..I couldn't….didn't want you to know…you shouldn't have to know…I don't…." The fear that had seized his heart was making him stutter. "Wasn't supposed….to be like this…"

The others were still shouting, and the sounds washed over the broken man. He didn't know what to do, how to fix it…but there was a sudden pressure on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open. Startled, breathless, the deputy's glazed eyes searched for the source of the pressure. With parted lips, he stared into what seemed like a familiar face. Rick blinked slowly, trying to put a name to the face….

T-Dog

The man had one strong hand clamped on Rick's shoulder and was staring down at him, worry etched into his features. He applied more pressure, trying to pull the deputy from his daze. "Rick?" He said. "Rick? Can you hear me? You alright? Rick…"

"T…T-Dog?" Rick managed, his mind still heavily clouded with noise and regret.

"Man, you alright?" T-Dog asked again, his eyes shining in the dark.

Rick swallowed hard and bowed his head, fingers clawing at his scalp. "Shoulda told them….shoulda…" But T-Dog cut him off.

"Man, look…" He dropped down to kneel beside his friend. "I get it…you were tryin' to keep that shit out of our heads…you didn't want us carryin' that around…but stuff like this man…." T-Dog paused to shake his head, "Can't keep it to yourself…just lettin' it eat at you…ya gotta let shit like this out…"

Rick took a staggered breath, trying to calm himself. "Didn't…." he stopped to lick his dry lips. "Didn't want it to be true….wasn't sure…till now…" he gestured weakly at the corpse that still lay in the grass.

T-Dog bit his lower lip and bowed his head, remembering how terrible it had been to stumble into the woods and find Patricia's body, hanging from that tree…Carol crying on the ground below…He squeezed Rick's shoulder harder, forcing the deputy to look at him. "This ain't your fault man. I know they're pissed right now…they gotta have someone to be pissed at, and right now…that's you. But the outbreak…the fact that we all have whatever the hell this damn virus is…that ain't on you. You hearin' me?"

Rick's eyes were glazed, wild as he took another shaky breath and eyed his friend. "I….I shoulda said somethin'….maybe if…."

T-Dog leaned in close, whispering to the deputy. "Nobody coulda known that Patricia was gonna up and do this man….alright? And all this about us bein' infected…it was gonna come out sooner or later…just a shame that this was how we had to find out…now we got some folks to face back at camp; think you can get up? Ain't like ya gotta go it alone."

Rick managed a weak nod and closed his eyes again, wishing he were anywhere else.

"C'mon then," T-Dog gripped his friend, hauling him up off the ground.

The deputy brought one palm to his forehead, and swayed a little on unsteady feet. He felt like he might be sick as he stood, leaning into T-Dog.

The others were still hurling their rage, shock and sadness across the clearing in broken screams. Eyes were manic, gleaming, chests were heaving and fingers were lacing behind heads, or tangling in sweaty hair. As he stood, supporting his friend, T-Dog realized why Daryl had taken Rick's keys and used the truck to get
Carol out of there…the two of them just weren't ready for all of this…not after what they'd seen in the woods…after finding Patricia. T-Dog understood, and didn't harbor any resentment towards his two friends. If space was what they needed, then T-Dog accepted that. He'd do his best to help Rick deal with the aftermath of the confession. "Hey!" he hissed at Shane and Andrea, "Ya'll about through?!"

Shane blew out an angry breath and shook his head. "Man, you tellin' me you're okay with this?"

T-Dog's eyes narrowed in anger. "No, I'm not okay…That's one of our people lyin' on the damn ground man! I get it…you're pissed….we all are…but instead of standin' out here yellin'…throwin' a damn fit 'n tryin' to place blame…how bout we focus on the fact that we gotta explain this to everybody back at camp?"

Shane was huffing as he paced back and forth, hands on his hips. "He shoulda said somethin'." He glared at his partner.

"Maybe," T-Dog acknowledged, "But that's a discussion we gonna have to save for another day. Fact is…we got people. We gotta tell Herschel…Beth 'n Maggie…'n get the body buried. We ain't just leavin' Patricia on the damn ground all night." There was a definite edge to T-Dog's voice and he looked at Andrea and Shane in turn.

Andrea ran her hands over her face in exasperation. "He's right," she told Shane. "What matters right now is telling the others and taking care of Patricia…she deserves a proper burial."

Shane gnawed his lower lip. "You volunteerin'?" He snapped at Andrea. "Just gonna walk back to camp and tell Herschel 'n them that Patricia took off into the woods and tied her own goddamn noose? Ya gonna tell 'em that Carol found her and she'd turned...gonna explain this whole mess? That it?"

Andrea held her ground, letting Shane's angry words fly past her. After everything she'd seen…everything she'd been through…she wasn't about to let one man's rage scare her away. With her arms folded tightly across her chest, and her face a stony mask, Andrea continued. "I don't think there's a simple solution, if that's what you're saying."

Shane snorted.

"And I don't expect Herschel and the others to just accept whatever explanation we offer. I mean…" She blinked and lifted one hand to her forehead. "We've had more exposure to this sort of thing…we've seen more death, more destruction than Herschel and his people, and look how this is affecting us. If we're this rattled by it…they're going to be devastated."

T-Dog sighed, rubbing the back of his head. One strong arm was still supporting Rick, but the deputy's eyes were fixed on Andrea…as if her words were pulling him from his trance. "She's right…" Rick's words came out in a rasping whisper; he wasn't even sure if the others heard him.

Shane stopped pacing and eyed his partner. "You say somethin?"

Rick took a deep breath and eased away from T-Dog; he took an uncertain step forward and ran one hand through his hair.

"Man, you alright?" T-Dog asked, worried that the deputy might collapse at any moment.

Rick managed a nod and a soft grunt before turning to face Shane and Andrea. Summoning his strength, he lifted his head and forced himself to meet their gazes. He could feel the weight of their judgment, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't afford to be weak, not now…not when the group needed all of the strength it could get. He felt bad enough for the few moments he'd spent hiding within the recesses of his mind…trying to block them all out. T-Dog shouldn't have had to drag him to his feet…he never should've crumbled in the first place. Digging the heels of his boots into the soft earth, Rick stood, facing his friends, and braced himself for whatever onslaught would follow his next words. "I'm sorry…" he said, his voice raw with grief.

Shane, Andrea, and T-Dog were all watching him. "I'm sorry I kept this from you. When Jenner told me…I didn't wanna believe it…tried to convince myself that he was crazy….that spending all those months, cooped up underground, had taken a toll on him…and maybe he didn't know what he was saying anymore…I didn't wanna believe it…" He repeated, his eyes vacant as he remembered the CDC.

"Rick…" Andrea took a step towards him, but the deputy held out one hand, warding her off.

"Naw…" he shook his head. "Even if it wasn't true…even if it was just some wild theory…just the ramblings of a doctor who'd lost hope a long time ago…I shouldn't have kept it to myself. Guess…" He paused, taking a second to look up at the night sky. "Guess I just thought ya'll didn't need that in your heads….but I shoulda let you know….either way…"

Shane absorbed his partners words, and felt some of the anger dying down inside him. The brooding man ran a hand over the back of his shaved head as he tried to think about what might've happened if Rick had told them everything from the start.

People might've given up then 'n there….hell, maybe more of 'em woulda stayed in the CDC…with Jackie 'n Jenner…easy way out

Shane kicked at the ground as he realized that their group could be a whole heck of a lot smaller right now…if folks had known…but a part of him was still pissed, shocked even that his partner would keep something like this from him. Then images were flashing behind Shane's eyes…Lori, pale and naked in the grass..her clothes and his, scattered around them…their sweating, shaking fingers tangling together, her dark hair plastered to her brow as he loomed over her…It was then that Shane understood…some things were better left unsaid…to keep others from being hurt…to shelter them, if only for a while. He supposed that was what Rick had been doing since the CDC.

I'm no better than him…worse even….

But there was too much to do, too many things in front of him, demanding his attention, for Shane to get caught up in everything that had happened with Lori. He couldn't afford to go down that road right now. Clearing his throat and wiping some of the sweat from his brow, Shane eyed his partner. "You said she was right," he gestured to Andrea. "That there ain't no easy answer for all this…"

Rick's hands were on his hips and he blew out a breath. "There isn't."

"Then what do you suggest?" Shane asked.

T-Dog and Andrea exchanged glances as they anxiously awaited an answer.

"Honesty," said Rick. His green eyes hard, focused. The urgency of their situation had pulled him from his stupor. The deputy stared at his companions, waiting for any opposition, but it didn't come. "From here on out," Rick continued. "We keep everything on the table, no holding back. You learn something, feel like the rest of us oughtta know, you tell us. No more secrets; we can't afford to live like that anymore."

The words stung, pricking at Shane's conscience. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered if there would ever be a time…a place where he could tell Rick what he'd done….the mistakes he and Lori had made.

Not now…just not right now…

The hollow words echoed in Shane's skull and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of them.

Andrea wiped at the unshed tears in her eyes and sniffed. "So, what now? How do we do this?" She gestured towards their camp in the distance.

Rick looked at each of them, "Together."

"What about her?" T-Dog pointed to the body in the grass. "They're gonna wanna see for themselves…"

"I don't think they're ready for that," said Andrea as she hugged herself tighter.

"They're not," Rick sighed heavily.

"Man," T-Dog massaged his temple. "We gonna drop a bomb on these people…let 'em know that the thing they've been runnin' from this whole time is already inside 'em…'n then we gonna ask 'em to bury their friend…" He cursed under his breath.

"Think maybe we should leave the body here," said Shane.

"What?" Andrea asked.

"T's right," Shane continued. "It's too much to throw at 'em all at once. I say we go, tell 'em what happened….get that part over with….let 'em cry, scream…pray…whatever it is they need to do, then…when they say they're ready, we help 'em get her buried."

Rick looked around, "What do you think?" he asked them.

Andrea rubbed her running nose on her shoulder and nodded.

T-Dog reached out, letting his hand rest on Rick's shoulder. "Whatever you say man; we do this…" he glanced at the others, "we do it together."

Rick brought one hand up, giving T-Dog's hand a pat before he moved away from the man. "Alright then," said the deputy. "Together."

The four survivors eyed each other in silent agreement. Taking deep breaths, and steeling their nerves, they forced their stiff limbs to move and began making their way back towards camp. Scared, unsure of what lay ahead, Andrea cast one last glance over her shoulder and stared at the thing that used to be Patricia. Shuddering, Andrea let a single tear fall and looked away, hoping that this fresh tragedy wouldn't break their group.

"I don't like this," said Glenn as he rose from his place beside Maggie. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and started to pace, circling the small fire that still flared beneath the spit.

The others watched him with nervous eyes. "What's wrong?" Maggie asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"This is taking too long…they should've been back by now," he bit out.

Carl bowed his head and inched closer to his mother. Lori draped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder and speaking softly. "I'm sure everything's fine. Nothing out there that they can't handle." Her dark eyes were fixed on Glenn as she spoke.

But the young man wasn't convinced. "I just don't like it; okay? Too many of them are out there…somebody should've come back by now." He took off his cap and ran a hand through his black hair.

On the opposite side of the fire, Beth had gone pale, her fingers splaying nervously on the blanket beneath her. "What if something did happen?" she whispered, almost to herself. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she stared up at Glenn.

His brow furrowed as he stared back at the girl; he didn't have an answer for her. Scratching at his scalp, Glenn sighed. "I think I should go out there…look for them…maybe something…"

"Son," said Herschel, making the boy look at him. "It's not gonna do any good to get yourself worked up. You've got a good group, strong people. They can handle themselves; you know that."

Glenn took a step towards the farmer, "But we don't know what's out there!" he urged.

Herschel locked eyes with the younger man. "Your place is here. Rick asked you to stay; we need ya."

"I'm telling you," Glenn insisted, a crease forming in his brow as his worry grew, "I don't like this."

"None of us do," said Lori. "But we don't have a lot of options. They asked us to stay put, so that's what we do." Her voice was firm, despite her mounting concerns. "We wait."

Unsatisfied with her answer, Glenn continued to pace, the rifle growing heavy on his back. Maggie's hazel eyes followed him. "Glenn, please…c'mon," she patted the place beside her…an empty spot on the blanket. "You're makin' us all anxious; why don't you just sit with me 'till the others get back?"

"I can't!" He snapped at her. Angry at himself for lashing out, he tugged at his hair and sighed. "Look," he moved to stand in front of her. "I'm sorry, okay? I know this isn't your fault, and maybe I'm just being paranoid…but…" he licked his lips and stared out into the darkness that stretched on endlessly across the clearing. "I can't sit still, knowing they're all out there."

Maggie hugged herself, unsure of what else she could say.

Beth curled into her father's side, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. He began stroking the girl's hair in a feeble attempt to soothe her. "It's alright Bethie," he whispered. "They'll be along soon."

Lori stared across the small space, her eyes finding Herschel's through the orange glow of the fire. At a loss for comforts and empty gestures, the two parents watched each other, hurt and fear concealed behind their masks. They were scared, but they were charged with the task of hiding that fear, to protect their children. It was a difficult charade to maintain and it was wearing on them both. Lori's face was haggard, pale, with heavy shadows forming beneath her eyes. Herschel seemed to have aged since they left the farm; he winced as the pain in his hip flared and the fingers on his wounded arm flexed stiffly. But their own hurts didn't matter; all that mattered were their children, those young souls that they were sworn to protect. But as they stared at each other, as they watched the dying flames flicker in each other's weary eyes, Herschel and Lori knew that they didn't have any answers. Taking some small comfort in the fact that they weren't alone, the two parents broke the connection and returned their attention to their children.

"I'm sure they'll be back soon, probably just got caught up on something…that's all," said Lori. She brushed the hair back from her son's brow and took the Stetson off so she could kiss the top of his head.

Forced silence seemed to fill the small space and Glenn decided that it was no use. He shouldn't be making the other's nervous. Resigning himself to the fact that he'd have to sit, and wait, just like the rest of them, Glenn sighed and started to ease back down beside Maggie. Before he could get comfortable, a familiar sound reached his ears, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Footsteps….

In one fluid motion, Glenn jumped to his feet and slung the rifle off his back, catching it. With every nerve tightly coiled, and his heart thrumming, Glenn took aim. He stood at the edge of their small circle and kept his gun trained on wherever he thought the sound had come from. His eyes were darting left and right as he struggled to see through the darkness.

"Glenn?" Maggie asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"Shhh!" he hissed without looking at her. "I heard something!"

Beth buried her head in father's side. "Easy now," he whispered to her, his own eyes seeking movement in the gloom.

"Mom?" Carl looked up at his mother with wide eyes.

"It's alright baby, it's alright…" she hugged him, pulling him close as she repeated the same words, over and over, hoping they were true.

Glenn's breathing was rapid, shallow, as he scanned the clearing. His finger was hovering over the trigger. "Come on!" he whispered through clenched teeth. "Where are you?"

A twig snapped nearby and Glenn went completely rigid; he hefted the rifle, aiming higher….a muscle in his jaw was twitching as he struggled to focus. The rapid beating of his heart was making him feel sick and it was getting harder to grip the rifle in his sweating palms…his finger jerked slightly as the approaching footsteps got louder; he could feel the trigger being pushed back…but before any shots could be fired, four familiar faces emerged, eerily from the blackness…like shadows that had suddenly taken human shapes.

"Jesus christ!" He breathed, lowering his weapon and wiping the stinging sweat from his eyes. He took several deep breaths and shook his head as he took a step backwards. "I thought you guys were walkers!" Glenn began pacing, waiting for his breathing to slow.

"Dad?" Carl ran to his father, wrapping his arms around him.

Lori let a nervous laugh escape her as she wiped at her eyes. "We were starting to worry," she admitted.

Rick looked down at his son. "Carl…"

The boy lifted his chin, "Yeah dad?"

The deputy stroked his son's hair before placing a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "Carl…" he repeated, "I'm glad to see you, but I need ya to sit down for a minute, alright?"

Carl's brows knit together in confusion.

"Go on," Rick urged, pointing to Lori.

"Rick?" Lori asked, but he held up a hand, warding off any questions.

Herschel didn't like this. His tired eyes studied the small group that had returned…

Rick, Andrea, Shane, T-Dog…Where are the others…?

The realization must've struck Beth as well. She eased away from her father's side and looked around, as if the missing members of the group would show up any second. "Where's Patricia?" she asked, her voice small, weak.

Glenn wiped sweat from his upper lip and stared at his friends. "Daryl and Carol? Where are they? They okay?"

Fear spread through the small space like a sickness; the tension was suddenly palpable and no one was speaking. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire. With each passing second, the fear seemed to worsen, twisting in all of their bellies. Knowing that they couldn't stay silent forever, Rick, Andrea, Shane and T-Dog all exchanged worried glances. As he stood before his fellow survivors, Rick Grimes was reminded of the barn…the horror they'd all witnessed that day…loved ones, bleeding and broken on the ground, wasted bodies, rotting in the dust. Carol's face as she watched her daughter's corpse fall, lifeless…Daryl's pain as he tried to keep Carol from running to what used to be her child…Herschel and his people, on their knees, mourning their family…Closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose, Rick had to remind himself….

They survived it….they lived through that….through the herd…and they'll live through this…they've got to….

Feeling completely unprepared for the task ahead of him, Rick took a deep breath and opened his eyes…his expression softening as he stared at his friends and loved ones.

Glenn took a step closer, gripping the rifle nervously in his clammy hands, "Rick?" he asked, confused by his leader's silence.

The deputy glanced at the ground before meeting Glenn's gaze.

It was then the younger man realized that whatever was coming…would be bad…He swallowed hard, waiting for an answer.

"Something happened," Rick said. "Out there," he gestured behind him to the woods, and the clearing.

The others stiffened, afraid of what he would say next.

The words were sticking in Rick's throat, and his skull was starting to pound, but he couldn't stop…

They need to know.

"Daryl 'n Carol are fine…they took the truck, 'n they're on the opposite end of the clearin'…they'll be along in a while….just needed some space…" Rick's eyes were growing vacant again as he tried to make himself keep talking.

"Space?" Lori asked, a deep crease already forming in her brow.

The deputy stared at his wife…not knowing how to explain.

"Rick…" Herschel called to him. "Where's Patricia?"

A slight breeze passed over the small group, making the flames dance and the leaves rustle overhead. In that moment, the deputy could've sworn that he felt that lonely breath of wind in his bones, chilling him to the core…or maybe it was just the way they were all staring at him…their eyes glazed with fear.

What do you want from me?

But he already knew the answer. Wishing that he could be anywhere else in the world, Rick Grimes drew on all of his courage and faced his group. "She's gone." As soon as the heavy words fell like stones from his lips, Rick's eyes were on the ground, his head hanging low.

Beth's breathing picked up and her eyes started to shine with unshed tears. "What do you mean gone?!" Anger and fear were coursing through the girl, making her stand, small fists clenching at her sides.

Herschel rose then, staring hard at the deputy. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice grave.

The admission had taken such a toll on Rick and he needed help. Desperate, he glanced to his left, looking at his fellow survivors. T-Dog looked back and nodded before taking a step forward. "Carol…." he started, hoping that he had the strength to finish the sentence. "Carol went to check on her…but she wasn't in the Buick. I was on watch…walkin' the perimeter…I see Carol…'n she's goin' into the woods." T-Dog closed his eyes, pausing to take a breath. "Few minutes later, Daryl's out there, 'n the two of us decide to follow Carol…make sure she's alright…"

Beth's eyes were quickly swelling, turning red, tears began to spill quietly from the corners. The look on the girl's face stabbed at T-Dog, but he had to finish.

"And you found her?" Lori asked softly.

T-Dog bit his lower lip and nodded. "We found her…." he said, reliving the terrible moment in his mind…Carol's sobs echoing in his ears. "She was on the ground, cryin'…"

"She hurt?" Carl asked, his voice cracking with fear.

"Naw," T-Dog's hands were on his hips and he shook his head slowly. "She wasn't hurt…but Patricia was."

Beth let out a choked sob, her entire body shaking with trapped anger. "What happened?!" She cried through clenched teeth. Herschel took a step towards his daughter, gently grabbing her arm. "Bethie, maybe you shouldn't…"

"No!" She snatched her arm away, fresh tears falling down her face. "I need to know what happened!" she yelled at her father.

T-Dog didn't know how he was supposed to tell her…Andrea had been right…there was no easy way…After several, slow, deep breaths, T-Dog forced himself to speak. When the admission finally came, an agonizing moment of shocked silence followed. Before the others could even react to the news of Patricia's death, Rick was talking again…telling them what had happened to Patricia after she died…and why…he told them the truth. The ugly, heartbreaking truth that he'd been keeping from everyone…

Rick, Andrea, Shane and T-Dog knew it would be bad…they knew that the others wouldn't take the news well; how could they? But none of them were prepared for the absolute devastation that they had to witness.

The sounds of human misery were mingling in the night air, discordant, painful…ringing in the deputy's ears. Beth had screamed, a sharp, anguished cry that tore through the stillness of the clearing. She'd shaken her head, rejecting what Rick and T-Dog had said…time seemed to slow as Rick watched the girl's tangled, blonde curls flying from side to side. Her strength seemed to disappear in an instant, skinny legs buckling beneath her; she fell, crying, to her knees…Herschel immediately dropped down beside his daughter, trying in vain to comfort her. Maggie ran across the small space, sobbing, to join her small family on the ground. The three huddled together, convulsing, grieving…

Feeling light-headed, Glenn blinked and let the nearest tree hold his weight. He kept one sweaty palm clamped across his forehead as thoughts swirled in his brain.

Why? Why do we take a step forward just to be pushed ten steps back…why can't we catch a break from all this?

He knew the question was pointless; there was no sense to be made of their situation. No rhyme or reason; the only guarantee was death. As he glanced over at the grieving family, he felt guilt washing over him. The woman he loved was hurting, and he had no way to comfort her…nothing he could say would change what happened. He leaned against the tree, struggling to control his breathing, and felt like a failure…helpless.

Lori's eyes were slammed shut, salty tears spilling from beneath her dark lashes, following the curves of her face. Her slender frame was racked by sobs, but she tried to control the way her body shuddered as she held her son close. She was holding Carl so tightly, she thought she must be hurting him, but he didn't try to pull away. The boy simply shook, crying out his own hurt, making his mother's shirt damp with tears and snot. As she held her trembling boy, Lori's thoughts drifted to her unborn child.

We're all infected…that means whatever this is…the baby has it….If I lose it….

But the thoughts lurking in her mind were too dark, too sinister for her to face, at least not now….She kept one pale arm wrapped around her son while the other cradled his head, her long fingers threading in his dark hair as she stroked him, hoping to calm him in some way. She could feel his locks, soft against her skin, slipping through the gaps between her fingers. As she sat, shaking on the ground, listening to her son cry, Lori Grimes was grateful that they hadn't borne witness to Patricia's death. It wasn't like the barn…they'd never rid themselves of those images…at least Carl wasn't there to see T-Dog drive the blade into Patricia's skull. The boy didn't need that in his head. Focusing on the one thing she was grateful for, Lori continued to hold onto her son, hoping that the pain would stop…eventually. It had to.

Feeling strange in the presence of such raw grief…grief that he felt should be private for the families experiencing it, Shane stepped away from Rick and moved towards Glenn. The younger man looked up as Shane approached.

"You alright?" Shane asked, knowing how strange the question sounded.

Glenn lowered his gaze and shook his head. "No." He folded his arms across his chest and cast a fleeting glance at Maggie and her family. "Can't stand seeing her like that," Glenn said under his breath. "I don't know how to help."

Shane nodded slowly and blew out a warm breath. "Man," he rubbed his jaw and eyed the younger man. "Sometimes…ain't nothin' you can say…buncha words ain't gonna fix anything…Just somethin' she's gotta work through; guess the same goes for all of us."

"I guess," Glenn echoed, feeling empty.

While the two men stood talking, Andrea made her way to T-Dog, and pulled him into a strong hug, as her body began to shake with shock and sadness. Somehow, watching the others, as they reacted to Rick's confession, hit her harder than when she first heard the words herself. Her green eyes filled with tears that she only let spill once she was nestled against T-Dog's chest. Her arms were around his neck, and he responded by circling her middle, his hands resting on her back. He let her cry as he battled with his own emotions. He could feel her cheek, already growing damp as it lay pressed to his chest. As Andrea mourned, T-Dog gently rubbed her back; he sighed while his eyes scanned the small camp.

We all in the same boat…

Everyone looked just as lost as he felt.

They don't know what to do…hell, nobody does.

All he could do, all any of them could do, was grieve. Maybe they couldn't change what was happening to them…to their world, but they could be present; they could share in each other's misery…help one another to shoulder the burden. He knew that's what the Greene family was doing.

Them cryin' all over themselves, huggin' and buryin' their heads in each other's shoulders…it ain't gonna solve nothin'…

But it was better than mourning alone, crying where no one can hear…where there are no soft hands to wipe the tears from your face, or kind voices to whisper to you…

Andrea sniffed loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. He gave her back a reassuring pat, letting her know that he was there. "Go on," he whispered to her. "Let it out."

She nodded weakly against his chest, her eyes slamming shut, causing more tears to fall. As T-Dog held her, he remembered Daryl and Carol. He thought about them, alone…all the way across the clearing, and wondered how they were dealing with everything. He was glad they were together, that they each had someone to turn to.

I hope they're alright….

Carol was leaning over him; her hand was under his shirt, fingers splaying carefully over the scar on his chest. He was still gripping her shoulder, holding the fabric of her shirt out of the way so he could study the mark at the base of her neck. He was staring hard at the bruises above her collarbone, but suddenly, she moved closer, and he refocused on her face.

Carol was too close to him, she knew she was. She could tell by the way he tensed under her palm, the way he was breathing…she felt the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to calm himself. His skin was damp with sweat, and seemed to grow warmer with each passing second. The closeness was terrifying, but Carol couldn't make herself leave him, and she never wanted him to let her go But they couldn't stay like that…she knew that it was too much for him…for both of them.

At any moment, Carol figured one of them would back down…run…but seconds continued to tick by and neither of them relinquished their hold on the other. Being as close as she was to him, Carol couldn't help but stare. Her lids were heavy, and she felt drugged as she focused on his mouth, his lips… His breathing had become rapid, shallow, and she watched, in a trance, as his tongue slid quickly across his lower lip. Carol shuddered; she wanted so badly to close the small distance between them…to catch his bottom lip between her teeth and slowly apply pressure… But she was afraid of going too far, of scaring him. She wanted to feel him again, the way she had under the tree…to be close, tangled, wrapped around him, breathing him in… Those strong fingers still gripped her, and for a moment, Carol was tempted to turn her head…just to let her lips brush his knuckles, to kiss him…she just wanted him to know all of the things that she was thinking…the things she was constantly thinking…all the thoughts that fear wouldn't allow her to voice.

As they lingered in that moment, scared, confused…Carol remembered what Rick had said.

We're all infected.

They all had it; they carried it with them…whatever it was…whatever ugliness stole the light from loved one's eyes and turned them into monsters…they all had it.

It's already inside us…

It was hard to accept that they all had the potential to become ugly…to turn rabid…to destroy one another. But as Carol stared at him, the man...the person who'd come to mean so much to her, she knew that nothing…no virus sleeping inside him, no collection of angry scars on his skin…no mistakes, big or small, past or present, would change the way she looked at him, the way he made her feel. She loved him. She hadn't said it out loud…she couldn't…because the thought scared her, but in that moment, alone in the grass with him, she knew that it was true. He kept her breathing, kept her alive and hopeful, even in a world filled with death and decay…he gave her a reason to keep trying. Carol's eyes were growing warm as she realized that he probably didn't know…he probably had no idea how grateful she was for him…just for his company…

He doesn't know…

Her chest tightened at the thought that he might never know. How long did any of them really have in a world like this? A world where life spans were more accurately measured in weeks…days even… The only way he would ever know, is if she told him…showed him. But fear was stopping her…the way it always had…all of her life, fear had been keeping her from doing what she wanted, what she thought was right…Agonizing over whether to move in, to collide with him, or to pull away…Carol squeezed her eyes shut.

Daryl saw the change in her face, and he didn't know what to do…how to help her. He hadn't known for a long time… His heart was pounding in his chest as he remembered the quarry. The first time he'd seen her, she was standing silently beside her husband, her left eye bruised, purple…She'd kept her head down, not wanting to draw attention. But Daryl had seen the evidence…his eyes had flicked to Ed's hands…he'd seen the cuts on the man's knuckles, but it wasn't his place to intervene…she was a stranger. Even then…Daryl hadn't known how to help her. The woman leaning over him now was different. She'd survived the hell that was losing Sophia…the herd….she could've given up at any time…could've followed Patricia's example and ended it all. But she'd chosen to live. She got up each morning; she helped. Daryl knew the pain wasn't gone…it might never go away, but Carol didn't let it stop her. Whether she carried it with her, or simply set it aside for a later date, the hunter couldn't know for sure…but he knew that Carol hadn't given up; she kept moving. Something in him responded to that incredible strength of character; it fascinated him.

How does she do it?

He felt weak by comparison. He'd lost his brother…but she lost her child. He couldn't begin to imagine that pain. She had every reason to lie down and never get up…to put a bullet in her own brain…but she didn't. He thought of all the time he'd spent mourning Merle…the times he'd contemplated leaving the group…the stupid, wasted hours he'd spent wallowing in self pity…when all around him, people were nursing wounds worse than his. He thought about the bitterness that had been festering inside him, for years…since his childhood…the venom in his words when he lashed out at anyone that got too close. Something stabbed at his chest as he remembered snarling at Carol…that night on the farm, under the tree. All she wanted was to check on him…and he'd thrown the concern in her face, spitting curses at her, berating her, blaming her for Sophia's death…Daryl felt as though his entire being was quickly filling up with regret, disgust at his own mis-placed anger. He'd flung his rage at her…saying all of the terrible things he knew would hurt her…but she'd stood her ground…she was still here….and she was with him now, despite everything. Her soft hand was under his clothes and she was so close to him.

Why?

Daryl was lost. He didn't know what he was doing…why he was lying in the grass, letting this woman touch him. Instinct was telling him to go…to run, but the idea seemed ridiculous somehow…As she flexed her finger tips lightly, barely clawing at his skin, Daryl felt his heart rate increase. Blood was beginning to rush in his ears and he was slowly losing control of his body. Something other than fear was keeping him there. He didn't know what was happening, and he suspected that she didn't either. But he couldn't make himself leave. He applied a hint of pressure to the place where he held her, and marveled at how soft she was. How could someone who had endured so much hurt…so much abuse…how could she still be so soft? It was one more question that would go unanswered, burning in Daryl's fevered mind as he stared at the woman above him.

The slight pressure on her shoulder made Carol open her eyes. He was still there…his blue eyes watching her as she struggled with indecision. She felt guilty, being there with him. They should be with the others, sharing in the grief that Rick's news would undoubtedly bring to the group. But instead, she was here, stealing selfish moments with him. She didn't deserve this…him…this respite from the endless nightmare that was their life. But she was too weak to leave. She was frozen…they both were.All the words and reasons were locked behind her lips, and she held them there. Reminding herself to breathe, Carol let warm air pass her lips. She felt Daryl drag his thumb slowly across her collarbone, and the contact made her shiver. That was all it took, her resolve was breaking and she had to do something. Maybe she couldn't do all the things she wanted…say all the things she'd been keeping inside, but she could at least force herself to act, if only in this small way. It was a strange sensation, to draw on her courage and restraint at the same time, but she had to do something. Bending low, leaning over him, Carol made herself say his name, "Daryl…" she breathed, knowing that her voice was shaking.

The hunter blinked, startled by the fact that she'd actually spoken. "Hm?" he managed, doing everything in his power to calm his frayed nerves.

Carol let her eyes roam his face, taking in all of the little details she'd grown to love…as she stared, she didn't bother to hide her admiration…she looked at him the way she'd always wanted to, with open, honest eyes…the way she'd been afraid to up until now. She could tell it was unnerving him as he swallowed hard and blinked again. Carol didn't know what to say…what she'd planned on saying just a few seconds ago…thoughts and images were coming undone in her mind. Pulling a deep breath into her lungs, Carol forced herself to speak. "We…" she paused, trying to keep herself from stuttering, "We can't stay here…" she whispered. "We…we need…to go back." She swallowed hard, after the words left her lips, and waited for his reaction.

Daryl didn't understand. Her lips moved, but he couldn't make out the words. He had to focus. The hunter winced as he propped himself up on his elbow. The action startled Carol and her hand slid from his chest, down to his stomach. Her nails clung weakly to the damp skin and she sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing what else to do. His fingers released her shoulder, his hand falling away so that he could use both elbows to support himself. The loss of his touch was terrible and Carol had to keep the sadness from showing on her face. She eased back, giving him space as he sat up, but her hand remained…resting lightly on his stomach…she didn't want to let him go. With his palms splaying on the grass, Daryl stared hard at the woman in front of him. "What?" he finally asked, his voice strained. He licked the sweat from his upper lip as he watched her.

Carol felt so powerless with his eyes on her. But she needed to do this. "Daryl…" she repeated, her eyes closing in frustration.

The sound of his name, on her tongue, the shaky way she was breathing as she said it…all the little details made the hunter tense, the muscles in his stomach knotting. His blunt nails began to dig into the dirt.

When Carol opened her eyes, he was staring at her. She could feel the way his muscles were locking up, seizing beneath her palm.

It's too much….we can't do this…

"We….have to go back….we should be with them…" For half an instant, her bright eyes flicked back to the direction their camp lay in. But, like a magnet, she was drawn back to his face.

Daryl exhaled, bowing his head as he tried to process her words. The rational part of his brain knew she was right. The words made sense…but he worried that, in his current state, he might not be able to listen…to agree. When he lifted his chin again, their eyes met. Neither spoke, but they didn't need to. Whether they acknowledged it or not, a thousand silent messages were passing between them in that moment. Wants, needs, questions they were too afraid to ask…all these things hung suspended in the warm air around them.

Needing to distract himself, before he lost what little self-control he was desperately clinging to, Daryl cleared his throat. "Thought ya needed space…time." The words came out in a hushed growl that made Carol bite her lip.

Carol fought to maintain her composure, but she was losing the battle. She didn't know when her hand had started moving again, but she suddenly realized that it was slowly traveling up his chest again, until her fingertips reached his collarbone.

Daryl looked down, watching the motion of her hand with narrowed eyes. His breathing picked up, but he didn't have the strength to stop her. "Thought ya needed time," he repeated, hoping that the words had come out in the right order.

Carol was in a trance, lost in the feel of him under her hand. She stared at the skin that was revealed as his shirt was pushed up just a little. For one selfish second, Carol considered giving in…pushing, forcing him back down into the grass and taking what she wanted from him…but she knew it wasn't right. "I…" she seemed to choke on the word as she ran her fingertips along that same scar. "I did…I mean…I do….It's just…I…." Her hand was sliding down again, back to his stomach.

Daryl had sense enough to stop her. He brought both hands up, quickly wrapping his fingers around her wrist, stilling her. "Jus' what?" he asked. His breathing ragged.

The pressure of his fingers made her gasp, but it also helped to clear her head. "We can't stay here….hiding…." she said, her eyes focused on him.

Almost instantly, anger was flaring in Daryl's chest…making the blood pound harder in his ears. His grip tightened on her wrist and he glared at her. "Hidin'?" He snarled.

Carol whimpered at the pain in her wrist.

"That what you think this is?" He hissed, his head cocked to one side as he dared her to argue.

He was hurting her, but she didn't want to cry in front of him. "Daryl…" she said through clenched teeth, unshed tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. "Let go," she urged.

But he didn't listen; he sat up straighter, leaning in close. "Answer me," he growled under his breath, making the hairs at the base of Carol's neck stand up. "Think we're out here hidin'?"

"Maybe," she said, her voice strained. "I don't know…" grunting, she jerked free of his grasp, her hand slipping out from beneath his shirt. With her eyes still burning into him, she quickly began massaging her wrist, trying to drive the pain out before bruises could form. She sat in the grass, breathing hard, waiting for him to say something.

Realizing what he'd done, Daryl was filled with a sudden, stifling revulsion. He couldn't look at her. He'd hurt her…again….wanting nothing more than to be alone with his hatred…to berate himself, punish himself, the hunter began to scoot awkwardly away from her. He had to bite back the string of curses on his tongue, his current state had left him in pain, but he knew that he deserved it. The pain would serve to remind him of what he was…what he'd always been. He had no right to hurt her…to lay hands on her… The best thing he could do for Carol was stay the hell away from her….from everyone. He didn't know what he was thinking…dragging her out there with him. Daryl knew in his heart of hearts that he'd never truly been able to help anyone…all he'd ever done was make things worse…cause trouble for those who didn't deserve it. He winced, slamming his eyes shut as all of the doubt and self-loathing rushed violently into his consciousness. But before the web of dark thoughts could ensnare him, something had a hold of his shirt. He looked down and saw that Carol was clutching weakly at the grey fabric. The sadness on her face chilled his insides and he quickly looked away, ashamed of the way he'd acted.

Woman just needs to let me go….

But she seemed to hear his thoughts, her grip tightening on the hem of his shirt. "Daryl…don't…." she pleaded. He didn't understand what she wanted. "Just…wait…." she said, only releasing him when she thought he would listen. Realizing that he didn't really have anywhere else to go, the hunter sighed heavily and turned back around to face her. He sat with raised knees, hands splayed at his sides. He wished that he could cross his legs, keep himself closed off, but the thought made him cringe…The pain below his waist was still nagging at him, demanding attention, but he did his best to ignore it. Daryl didn't speak, he just sat, waiting to hear whatever it was she had to say, his body thrumming with trapped anger and more frustration than he was prepared to handle. His eyes were cutting into her.

Shocked by the fact that he'd actually stayed, Carol found herself at a loss.

What am I supposed to do now? What do I say to him?

Wiping quickly at her eyes and bracing her palms on her thighs, Carol took a deep, shaky breath.

"Can't keep doin' that…" Daryl muttered to himself.

Carol looked up, a crease forming in her brow. "What?" she whispered into the dark.

The hunter gnawed his lower lip, nails digging deep into the soft earth as he struggled with his words. "Hurtin' ya…." He winced, trying to keep bile from rising in the back of his throat.

Carol glanced quickly at her wrist; the skin was red where he'd grabbed her. When she looked up, she saw that the hunter's head was hanging low in shame…she could see, just by the set of his shoulders, how much this was weighing on him. "Daryl…" she said softly, as if she were speaking to a frightened child.

A slight shake of his head was the only response; he wouldn't look at her.

Sighing, and drawing on the little strength the day had left her with, Carol crawled towards him. He could hear her getting closer, but he refused to look up. She felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye and was glad that he didn't see it. She paused to rub her face against her shoulder, drying the moisture on her cheek. Sniffing quietly, she kept moving until she was sitting beside him. Carol knew that she had to choose her next words carefully…she wanted to help him, the way he helped her…reassure him, offer comfort…not scare him. Despite the sadness and exhaustion threatening to overtake her, a small smile formed on her lips as an amusing thought entered her head.

For someone who makes a conscious effort to keep everybody away, he certainly seems to need a lot of reassuring, and a lot of help nursing wounded pride.

Carol wasn't sure when she'd taken on that responsibility, but she had, or she wouldn't be beside him right now. As she sat in the grass, trying to decide what to do, she toyed idly with the idea that maybe…it was possible that Daryl needed her as much as she needed him.

Maybe.

Either way, he was here now…and Carol needed to convince him that he had worth…that he really was helping her, even if he didn't know it. Maybe it was the late hour…the hypnotic power of the moon that hung over them…or a combination of all the things she'd seen and heard that day, but Carol seemed to have a sudden, cathartic awakening. All this time she'd spent agonizing over her feelings towards Daryl, whether or not to tell him….how to tell him…what he might do or say in response…it didn't matter. It wasn't going to change how she felt. Every moment she spent worrying about it was another wasted second…She knew, as they sat in the grass together, that nothing she could say would be enough to make him run. They were stuck here, with their group… She wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he. Feeling as though she'd somehow been enlightened, Carol held her aching head in her hands and let a nervous laugh escape her.

Daryl cast a sideways glance at her, his eyes were mean, blue slits. "The hell is so funny?" he growled under his breath.

Pushing her hands up, over her face and into her mussed hair, Carol looked at him, the soft smile still on her lips. "You don't get it…" she whispered, almost to herself.

Daryl stared hard at her, his brows knitting together. "Get what?" he snapped.

She shook her head slowly and rubbed her wrist. "It doesn't matter," she chuckled softly to herself.

He noticed the motion of her fingers and huffed, looking away.

But Carol wasn't giving up; she was determined to make him see. She inched closer to him and held her wrist up in front of his face, forcing him to look at it. She saw him cringe, his lips curling into a snarl. Before he could say anything, Carol interrupted. "You think this defines you?" she asked, indicating her wrist.

Daryl watched her face, searching for the meaning in her words.

"You made a mistake…" she said, "It happens. Your anger just got ahead of you, that's all. You have a right to be angry…we all do…."

There was a low growl coming from the hunter's chest. "Got no right to grab ya like that…" he hissed the words from between clenched teeth.

"Daryl!" she snapped, forcing him to listen. "Stop it." Her tone brooked no arguments. "It was a mistake…alright? I'm not going to tell you again." Her blue eyes seemed cold as they watched him.

Taken aback by the sudden aggression in her voice, Daryl tilted his head to the side and studied her. "Tellin' me that don't bother ya?" He nodded towards her wrist.

Carol considered his words, her thumb passing slowly over the red spot. "It's not enough to scare me off…if that's what you're asking."

Daryl snorted, "Why?"

"Because I know you didn't mean it." She said matter-of-factly, her shoulders shrugging.

The hunter didn't know what to say. He didn't want her making excuses for him.

Carol broke the silence. "I know you don't want to hurt anyone…" she smiled sadly at him, "You brought me out here because you thought it would help…"

Daryl reached up to rub the back of his neck. "That was my first mistake," he muttered bitterly.

Tired of his attitude, Carol released a heavy sigh and moved closer. She studied his face for a moment, wondering what she could possibly do or say to ease the tension she saw there. Past the point of caring…of being afraid, Carol summoned her courage and reached up until both of her hands were easing into his hair.

The sudden contact startled Daryl and he flinched; instinctually, his hands flew to her wrists to stop her, but before his fingers could curl around her flesh, he paused, remembering his reaction, from moments ago, and was not about to let himself repeat it. His grip loosened on her wrists, and he locked eyes with her, silently questioning her actions. But she just stared back at him, undaunted. Unnerved by the honesty reflected in her eyes, Daryl blinked and bowed his head, submitting to the contact. "It's alright," she whispered, "Trust me." Without waiting for an answer, Carol kept moving, until all ten of her long fingers were lost in his hair. She bit her lip, savoring the feeling. Slowly, carefully, she ran her fingers through his messy locks, hoping to chase some of the anger away.

The second he'd allowed her to thread her fingers in his hair, Daryl had to close his eyes. The sensation was too much, too familiar…addictive. He didn't want her to stop, but he was afraid of what could happen if she kept going. "Carol…" he managed. "Why ya doin' this?"

She could hear the strain in his voice, and it made her brave. She tugged gently at a shock of his hair, forcing him to lift his chin and look at her. Daryl tried to stop the hiss from sliding between his teeth, but he failed. The sound resonated with Carol and she tugged just a little harder, relishing the control she had over him. Daryl wanted to be mad, to push her away, but he couldn't. Instead, he grunted softly and tried to speak. "Why ya doin' this?" He asked again, his lids heavy, eyes locked on hers.

Carol stared hard at him as her fingers curled into fists, clutching his hair tight. She saw his eyes slam shut for a moment before easing open again. His lips were parted and he was breathing harder now. "Why?" He asked a third time, desperation plain in his voice.

"You brought me out here," she said in a husky whisper, "because you thought it would help."

"Yeah?" He breathed, still confused.

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Well," she said, feeling heat spread across her face. "Maybe I'm trying to help you now." She unclenched one of her fists and carefully tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear.

Daryl didn't understand. "Help me with wha?" His drawl grew more pronounced when he felt her fingertips brushing his ear. The light touch sent a chill down his back.

Carol was enjoying his reactions more than she cared to admit. But she couldn't help it; she didn't want to stop. Biting her bottom lip, she scooted closer to him and brought her mouth to his ear, close enough for him to feel her breath. She chuckled nervously and a low rumble came from the back of Daryl's throat when he felt the warmth of her laughter hit his skin. "Your anger…" she whispered, chuckling softly again.

Daryl swallowed hard, trying to compose himself, and wondering how the hell she got so close to him. When he felt like he could form a logical sentence, Daryl licked his dry lips. "What makes ya think this is helpin'?" he asked, his voice like gravel. She continued to smooth the hair behind his ear, and the feeling was slowly torturing him.

"Well," she laughed lightly again, moving closer so that her lips were hovering over his neck, but she didn't make contact. She breathed him in and felt her body come alive. "Are you still angry?" The fist that was still in his hair tightened as she waited for him to answer.

The second those words left her mouth, Daryl felt his temperature rise. At that point, the hunter was too far gone to know whether or not she was purposefully toying with him. The combination of her voice, the way the warm words were pressed against his skin, and her fist closing tightly around his hair….all of it had driven the anger from his body, and replaced it with an entirely different sensation. Feeling a little more of the control slip away from him, Daryl closed his eyes and focused on the way the blood was rushing through his veins.

"Well?" Carol breathed against his neck, wanting so badly to taste him.

"Naw," he managed as another chill worked its way down his spine. "Ain't angry…"

Carol's eyes grew wide when she heard the smile in his voice. Easing back, she studied his face, and was amazed by what she saw. His blue eyes had grown dark, feral, and they were focused on her. There was a slight smirk on his mouth and some of the hair she'd mussed was in his face, giving him the appearance of something wild. Carol was having trouble accepting the fact that she'd put that look on his face. The way he was staring at her made her feel naked. Overwhelmed and unprepared, Carol began to feel as though she'd crossed a line…gone too far. The old fear began to seize her and her shaking fingers slid from his hair, but Daryl caught her wrists, gently this time. Carol's lips parted, but she couldn't speak.

His thumbs were rubbing soft circles on the insides of her wrists and the tip of his tongue was resting between his lips. She tried to keep herself from trembling, but she couldn't help her body's reaction to him. Embarrassed by the way her arms were shaking in his grasp, Carol looked away. Daryl was confused by the change in her. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to continue with all of her ministrations….wanted to hear that same voice she'd used when she whispered against his neck. Unwilling to release his hold on her, Daryl tugged carefully at her wrists, pulling until her hands were resting over his temples.

Carol still wouldn't meet his gaze, but that didn't stop him. The fear twisting in her belly, and the need that had been building for so long, together, were making her weak. Relinquishing any control she may have had, Carol's arms went limp in his grasp. She couldn't fight him. Struggling to control her breathing, she let him pull until her hands were just above his ears. Her eyes were shut tight, but a small gasp escaped her when she felt his hands over hers, pressing down, pushing, forcing her fingers to tangle in his hair again. The locks were growing damp with sweat, but Carol didn't care. All she knew, in that moment, was how his hair felt between her fingers. Her hands were on him…

Because he put them there….

The thought was making Carol dizzy. She began to feel as though she might faint.

Daryl was staring hard at her face; he saw the way she was resisting…with her eyes slammed shut and her jaw clenched. His head was heavy with thoughts, but he couldn't decipher any of them…they were crowding his mind, and he knew they were important, but he couldn't untangle them. Instead, the hunter let his body make the choices for him. And in that moment, it was telling him to keep her fingers in his hair, it was craving the contact, those light touches that were making the blood hot beneath his skin. Determined, Daryl forced her fingers back into his hair; his sweaty palms were clamped over her hands, keeping them in place. Not sure what else to do, he sat, with his head bowed and waited for her to act. Each idle second was agonizing as the hunter struggled to slow his breathing.

Mesmerized by the feel of his hands on hers, Carol eased her eyes open. She saw that his head was hanging low and the sound of his breathing made her body ache in a way that it hadn't in years.

How does he do this to me?

She didn't understand how something as simple as a sound could affect her entire being. Carol stared at him in amazement. She could hear the strain in every ragged breath he took, and drew strength from the fact that she wasn't the only one struggling. All she wanted was to help him, to please him...but she didn't know how.

Tell me what to do…

Carol was pleading silently, afraid to voice her thoughts.

Daryl needed motion. Tired of waiting for her, he applied more pressure to her hands, trying to make her move. The action startled Carol and she blinked, trying to process what was happening. Before she could prepare herself, Daryl lifted his chin and locked eyes with her. The intensity of his expression made Carol blush. His eyes were cutting into her and she feared that he could see all the thoughts and selfish wants she had fought so hard to hide from him. But if he'd seen her secrets, the hunter wasn't telling her. He wasn't speaking. With eyes like chips of blue ice, Daryl stared at her, burning her, quietly torturing and enticing her in a way he would never understand. His chest continued to rise and fall with each heavy breath and the sound made Carol bite her lip.

The motion was tiny, teeth capturing flesh, but Daryl caught it, his sharp eyes flicking to her mouth. Her lower lip was swelling from the way her teeth held it, and Daryl was suddenly fascinated. With heavy lids and narrowed eyes, he focused on her mouth, like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. With all of his attention on her lips, the hunter seemed to forget Carol's hands. His damp palms began to slide, slowly down her wrists.

Carol was nervous, restless under his gaze and she gnawed her lip harder, hoping the pain would help clear her head…but his hands were moving, slipping down the length of her pale wrists, moving with purposeful slowness that almost burned her skin. She couldn't help but to release her lip and let out a small gasp when his strong fingers curled around the weak spots at her elbows. She needed to do something…hang on however she could. Watching him watch her, Carol suddenly closed her fists around his hair, grunting softly as she did it.

Daryl froze, his lips parting and eyes slamming shut as he felt the pressure he'd been craving.

Fuck.

The way she was holding on to him, gripping his locks so tightly, the hunter couldn't help but respond in kind...his fingers curling hungrily around her elbows. For several heartbeats, Daryl let the pleasure ripple through him…signals firing in his brain, jolts of electricity traveling with alarming quickness down his spine, and blood pouring itself into the lower half of his body. Feeling painfully awake and alive, Daryl released the breath he'd been holding and opened his eyes. He stared at Carol and thought that she looked as amazed as he felt.

Do it again….

But he couldn't form the words. Instead, he just squeezed her elbows harder, applying more pressure, trying to get her to understand… With another small gasp Carol responded by clutching at his hair, jerking a little, pulling his head to the side. The sharp pain made Daryl growl, but he wanted more. His hands moved up roughly from her elbows until he was gripping her biceps, fingers pressing in hard. Another low growl was coming from his chest, and his eyes wouldn't leave her face. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this…if he ever had, but all he wanted was pressure, contact, the familiar hint of pain that made his nerve endings vibrate. He loved the way her fists felt in his hair, and he didn't want her to let go. The hunter wasn't sure what to do next, but he wanted to give her all the pressure she was giving him, he wanted her to feel it. He had a strong hold on her biceps and used his grip to pull her towards him. She was momentarily shaken by the fact that he was pulling her, but she blinked and realized that she needed to move. She helped the hunter by scooting towards him as he pulled.

They were closer now, chests heaving. They'd both given up on trying to calm their breathing. With parted lips and sweating palms, Daryl and Carol sat in the grass and stared at one another. Somewhere, in the backs of their fevered minds, they knew that the hour was late, and the air was growing cooler. But the chill of the evening did nothing to soothe the stifling heat surrounding them; close, quiet, and confused, the two of them held their strange connection. Carol was clutching his hair so tightly that her fists hurt, but she was afraid to let go. She was torn between the feeling of his soft locks between her fingers, and his strong hands on her arms. The contact was incredible, overwhelming, and Carol didn't know what to do. She could only watch, in fascination, as Daryl stared at her.

Her body was tense; he could feel it as his nails began to dig in to her biceps; there was energy, teeming beneath her skin, like an unseen force…unconscious resistance that only made him want to press in harder. The blood coursing through him was urging the hunter to act, but the soft hands, slender fingers that had curled in his hair were holding him in place. With his head still cocked to the side, he studied her…as if she were some incredible challenge, or a code he might never decipher. Her closeness, at once, seemed to terrify and invigorate him. While the rest of his body remained still, but for the rise and fall of his chest, the hunter's eyes traveled slowly over her face, mapping out the features. He looked at the bow, above her upper lip, the way sweat was beading there…he glanced up, noting the faint freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose…for one stolen, carnal moment, he couldn't help but wonder whether her skin was dusted with freckles elsewhere….maybe a pale shoulder, the small of her back…her inner thigh…

There's gotta be more…

The thought was spinning slowly in his mind, like a lone leaf in autumn, falling lightly to the forest floor. He wondered absently about the possibility of more freckles, hidden beneath her clothes. But the sound of her breathing roused him from his thoughts. Daryl's eyes flicked to her chest and he watched, transfixed, as she filled her lungs, again and again… The well of her throat shone with sweat, and for an instant, Daryl could've sworn that he tasted it on his tongue…warm salt and something else that came from her…. The sudden hunger, the craving for her made him glance at the cross that lay just above her breasts. The tiny, golden pendant caught the moonlight and gleamed at him, forcing him to stare. Even as he sat, transfixed by the small charm, Daryl knew that it wasn't the cross that fascinated him, but the skin on which it rested. A slave to the blood rushing in his ears, the hunter's eyes moved carefully to the shadow, below the cross…the hidden place between her breasts…a soft, hallowed space that he suddenly found himself wanting to touch…if only to graze it…to let a single finger trace a line, down her chest, from the well of her throat, slowly…one fingertip sliding through that enticing gloom between her breasts…lower, to her stomach…. The images in Daryl's mind seemed to cause fresh sweat to break out beneath his clothes. As a bead of salty liquid rolled down the length of his spine, the hunter wondered if it was control that he'd felt slipping away just then.

Carol could feel his eyes on her body…on her chest, and the sensation was maddening. As she fought to maintain her grip on his hair, Carol couldn't help but think that he could see through her clothes…the power of his gaze was intense, surreal…and she found that she never wanted him to stop staring…she'd never felt as alive as she did when his eyes were on her. With each shaking breath that she took, Carol knew that he could see the rise of her chest. But she had to keep breathing… She was still scared, but she knew she couldn't hide from him…not anymore. A crease formed in her brow as she tried to determine what he was to her…what they were.

Friends?

The term seemed strange…ill fitting somehow. She wasn't sure if they'd ever truly been friends, if Daryl even considered anyone in the group to be his friend… Carol supposed it was possible.

But that can't be it….

Memories were flooding Carol's mind in bits and pieces. Everything they'd seen…after everything they'd been through together…she knew that there had to be more to them…more between them, than friendship. People didn't share the hardships, the losses that she and Daryl had endured together, without becoming something more than friends.

Family?

If she was truly honest with herself, Carol knew that he was the one thing…the one person that she clung to. She loved the others, cared for them…but he was different. He was her reason, the touchstone lending her strength in dark moments that she thought would break her. She wasn't sure when he'd become a symbol of hope, but he was the force that kept her standing when everything else threatened to overtake her. Carol tightened her fists in his hair, making him hiss…reminding herself that he was real. As he tore his blue eyes from her breasts and met her gaze, the color in his irises seemed eerily vibrant, and Carol knew….he was more than a friend, more than family….he was everything. With a thousand thoughts flitting through her skull, and as many words locked behind her lips, Carol held his gaze. Neither of them knew what to do…but it didn't matter. They were too afraid to move forward, but too weak to leave. Daryl and Carol could only hold tightly to one another, and wait for their fears or their needs to win out.

Seconds ticked by, one by one, and Carol's arms were trembling where he held her. Daryl swallowed hard, unnerved by the shaking, but he wasn't willing to release her. The rest of the world seemed to fall away as they sat, alone in the clearing, with only the moon watching over them. Nothing existed, nothing mattered…except two warm bodies, fevered minds, and four blue eyes burning in the dark. Feeling completely alone, isolated in the private space they'd created for themselves, the two survivors stared hard, and with startling clarity, seemed to see each other for the first time. She saw the angles in his face, the line of his jaw…and he memorized the curve of her bottom lip…the shape of her brow. The stillness was almost unbearable for Carol. She wouldn't be able to fight it forever…her body was already shaking and she knew her frustration would only grow worse if she didn't act. Bracing herself, for rejection, anger, or acceptance…Carol sunk her teeth into her lip and kept her eyes on his as she tugged sharply at his hair, bringing him closer.

There was a sudden, urgent pain as Daryl's groin tightened, but the feeling of her pulling his hair was so welcome…so wanted. He didn't bother to conceal the deep growl as the pain quickly transformed into pleasure and rushed through his body in warm waves. The sounds that came from him were making Carol desperate for contact. But they were so close now…. Her heart was hammering within the confines of her chest and she wondered if he could hear the steady, pounding beat.

Filled with strange energy that he was finding it difficult to control, Daryl followed her lead. When she tugged his hair, she brought him towards her…in the next instant, his forehead was resting against hers. Their skin was hot, slick with sweat, and they were both panting as they leaned against each other. Daryl closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling….the heat of her skin. Her scent was all around him, making him dizzy, and he had to fight to keep his hands on her arms…he knew that if he let her go…he'd touch her sides, her waist, her legs….but he couldn't…or he thought he shouldn't…With the blood rushing quickly from his brain, Daryl couldn't determine where their boundaries were…but he suspected that something still remained between them…something that kept him from acting on his impulses. With a shaky breath, he decided to savor the contact, just as it was, simple…terrifying, but necessarry. Her damp forehead against his…that was all he could've asked for, and all that he could handle…

Carol had come so far, but she couldn't bring herself to close the gap…to catch his mouth with hers…the fear she'd created in her own mind wouldn't allow that final wall to be breached. Instead, she let the sound of his strained breathing fill her ears and tried to memorize it.

Why are we here? Why are you letting me do this?

Carol knew the questions would go unanswered; she wasn't brave enough to voice them. But every cell in her body was screaming for his touch.

He can't hear it…

She needed him to know. Maybe Carol couldn't make herself kiss him, but she could bring him closer. She could still have his lips on her body. The sweat on his brow, the limp locks that were plastered to his skin….it was all painfully real, and Carol needed more. Steeling herself, she tugged at him again, guiding him until his mouth was hovering over the base of her neck…his lips just millimeters from where they'd been the night before, when he first left the mark above her collarbone.

Daryl didn't have the strength to resist her. He let her move him. His eyes were still closed as he lingered over the tender spot at the base of her neck. Everything inside the hunter seemed to twist as he struggled with the things he wanted to do…and the crippling doubt that refused to leave his mind. Hesitating, Daryl took a moment to breathe her in…her soft scent clouding his mind. He shuddered slightly, as the familiar fragrance flooded his senses, and wondered how it was possible for a person to smell soft. But that was the only word that his hazy mind could summon…the word he always seemed to come back to when he thought of her…soft. She wasn't weak…he knew that…but Daryl suspected that it was something about her character, some natural trait she'd been born with, that made her soft…he supposed gentle might be a better term. She cared about people…looked out for the others. She was careful with her words….her actions…only doing what she thought would help the group…comfort them. Daryl wasn't prepared for the feelings stirring inside him, but he could detect all of those things…the habits and instincts that made Carol who she was, he could tell, just from breathing in her scent, and holding it in his lungs. When he finally exhaled, the warm air hit her skin and Carol responded by clawing at his scalp. The pain drove him forward, and Daryl dipped his head, letting his lips hit her neck; he didn't kiss her…he didn't bite the pale skin, he only allowed himself to rest there, his chapped lips pressed gently to the crook of her neck…fingers still digging into her biceps.

The feeling was almost too much for Carol. She remembered their time under the tree, how his teeth had connected with her flesh…the wonderful pressure he'd applied, bruising her…but this was different. It occurred to Carol, as they sat beneath a blanket of stars, cool grass all around them, that Daryl wasn't relying on anything this time…no pills, potions or other chemicals were influencing him now…at least not to her knowledge. The thought, that he was acting solely out of need…out of desire, was staggering, and Carol's mouth quickly went dry.

I don't know what to do…I don't know what you want...

All she knew was that she loved the way his lips felt against her neck…the warm, heavy breaths that were coming from him started to tickle her and she let out a soft, nervous chuckle, her grip loosening on his hair. With the joy spreading through her, Carol's fists uncurled and she began to play with his hair, carefully stroking it…combing her long fingers through.

Daryl's eyes eased open when he felt her grip loosen. While he missed the pressure, there was something so kind and unexpected about the way she way tangling her fingers in his hair, playing, letting her nails gently graze his scalp…He found that he liked the feeling. He was enjoying the motion of her hands, but when he heard the breathy little laugh escape her, it stirred something inside him. Despite everything that they'd been through in the last twenty-four hours…the physical pain, emotional trauma, the work, the sweat, anger, pointless arguments…Daryl couldn't help but smirk against her skin. Her scent was everywhere and the hunter suspected that it was clouding his judgment. He sighed heavily, feeling more of the anger leave his body, and the second his breath hit her neck she tensed a little, nails digging into his scalp, just for a moment. But the reaction was enough. He knew it was his breathing that made her laugh a moment ago. Daryl's heart was beating hard, but he managed to stop panting. Using all of the control he had left, the hunter fought to regulate his breathing, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. Each time he pulled the smell of her skin into his lungs, Daryl felt the pain below his waist grow worse. But he couldn't stop. He craved the scent, and felt the slightest sense of loss each time he exhaled. But when the air from his nostrils pressed against her skin, she would tense, and Daryl liked that. He liked that he could have that effect on her. The smirk was still on his mouth, and he continued to take deep, measured breaths, on purpose.

Each time Carol resumed playing with Daryl's hair, it seemed to only take a moment before he was exhaling again, sending strong chills down her spine and making her go rigid for an instant. When she realized that his breathing pattern had changed…becoming slower, steadier…Carol's eyes narrowed and she blinked at the darkness, incredulous. The idea that he was teasing her made Carol's entire body warm. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that she could feel him smirking against her neck. Unsure of how to respond, Carol decided to fight back. For a moment, she continued to rake her nails gently through his hair, barely grazing his scalp, but suddenly, without warning, she formed a tight fist and pulled hard, making him growl. She could tell that he was trying to keep the groan from passing his lips, but the sound was heavy with frustration and a small smile was tugging at the corner of Carol's mouth. She felt his lips twitch as he tried to silence the growl coming from his chest. Their connection…the whole scene…was so bizarre, so unexpected and dizzying that Carol didn't know whether to laugh, cry or pull his mouth to hers. Exhausted and afraid, she decided on just being grateful for the closeness, for this moment they were sharing…a moment that might never repeat itself. Without over thinking the action, Carol inched closer to him, bowing her head, until her brow was hidden in the crook of his neck. Mimicking his pose, she let one delicate hand slip down from his hair and travel to his strong shoulder. She was careful not to grip the bruised flesh, but instead held him softly. Her right hand remained tangled in his hair, holding on. As she fought to keep the tears from her eyes, Carol focused on how warm his skin was and how nice it felt just to have her fingers curling around his shoulder.

Daryl stiffened for a moment. She was so painfully close to him. He could feel her, resting her head in the crook of his neck…he figured if he was doing it to her, she had every right to do it to him…but that didn't mean he was prepared. The hunter wasn't sure if he'd ever been this close to another person. That thought seemed strange, and Daryl toyed with the idea that he must have experienced this level of intimacy at some point in his life…with someone. But nothing came to mind, at least not in his current state. The hunter was incredibly confused and conflicted about all of the sensations competing for his attention. He seemed to want everything at once. To push her…pull her, sink his teeth into her…but fear still lingered in the back of his mind, making him think that he should retreat, hide from her…create the distance he'd always been comfortable with….he couldn't run now. He was hungry for her, at least for contact of some kind, his mind and body were urging him to stay close to her…his baser instincts were calling for flesh and blood, heat, and just a little pain….enough of a struggle to help him release some of the tension that was coiled like steel wire around his muscles. But beneath all of his selfish wants, or in addition to them, he was concerned about her. Each time he heard her chuckle, every time she pulled his hair, anytime her hands were on him..Daryl Dixon found himself doing something he'd never made a habit of before…worrying about what someone else wanted. He wondered what she needed, and how he could possibly give it to her. He wanted to know what he could do to please her. The hunter didn't know why it mattered…why someone else's wants were suddenly significant to him….but they were, and his mind was too cluttered to produce a solution. So he followed his instincts and hoped that her reactions would help guide him, help him make the right choices. He continued to breathe, exhaling slowly against her skin, knowing that she liked the way it felt. That was all Daryl had to go on as he sat in the grass with her, battling the pain below his waist which was becoming increasingly distracting by the minute.

Despite the long, measured breaths he was taking, Carol knew that something was holding him back…holding them both back. He was still wound so tightly, she could tell by the way his shoulder tensed as she held it. This was new to him. When Carol took a second to consider their situation, she had to acknowledge that it was new for her too. She'd never experienced this before. Physical proximity was one thing; she didn't have the same aversion to touch that Daryl did. Carol wasn't afraid to embrace the people she loved, to hug them, kiss them, hold their hands when they felt scared…but what she was experiencing now, was more than physical closeness. It was a wall, slowly being torn down; it was a show of trust, the most genuine example of acceptance that Carol had ever seen. It was raw vulnerability….and reckless attraction, at least on Carol's part.

I don't know what he wants…

But he hadn't pushed her away; he wasn't shoving her or muttering curses under his breath. Each time they'd been close to one another, whether it was on the farm, during gun training that hot afternoon, on the roof of the camper…trapped together In the stock room…Carol had assumed that it was her doing…that she was the driving force behind it, after all…she was the one who wanted him. But here, at the edge of the clearing, Carol realized that Daryl had been the one to bring them out there. Daryl had taken measures to separate them from the others…and Daryl was the one who had forced her hands back into his hair. The next thought surfacing in Carol's mind was almost too much for her.

Does he want this? Does he want….what I want?

She took a shaky breath and shuddered against him.

No….he doesn't….he can't….I'm fooling myself….

But his warm, heavy breaths, pressing against her skin were hard to ignore. As he exhaled, Carol felt the hairs at the base of her neck stand up. Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly and she thought back to the night before. A small groan escaped her as she remembered the way it felt to have her legs wrapped around his waist…she remembered the feeling of him, between her legs, and how he'd pushed up her shirt to nip at her stomach…it had been clear what he wanted then. But Carol still wasn't convinced that his actions, and physical responses, had anything to do with her.

I just happened to be there…It could've been anyone. I was just the warm body he had access to. He wanted release and didn't have any other outlets.

But despite her own doubt, there was another part of Carol that disagreed.

It didn't have to be me. He could've sought out Andrea….or no one at all.

Carol was sure that someone as angry and withdrawn as Daryl would be more than capable of releasing their own tension…without anyone else's help. She knew how difficult it was for him to be close, physically, or emotionally, to anyone. But he was there with her, hiding in the crook of her neck, his hands on her biceps.

There has to be more to this than convenience…There's a reason that he's here, with me, and not back at camp with the others.

Carol didn't know how long they'd been sitting together in the grass, and she couldn't remember the last time either of them had spoken, but she felt that the silence needed to be broken. Swallowing hard and absently rubbing his shoulder, Carol forced herself to speak. "I'm glad we're here…." she whispered into the crook of his neck.

Daryl stiffened the instant he felt those hushed words against his skin. He felt that she deserved a response…an answer, but he was beyond talking…he couldn't think straight enough to form a logical sentence, instead, he inhaled the warm scent from her hair and moved just enough to barely nuzzle her neck, to graze it with his scruff. His hands squeezed her biceps harder, and her skin seemed slick in his sweating palms. Before he lost control, Daryl forced himself to still. He kept his head bowed, lips resting on the sweet spot between her neck and her shoulder.

The feeling of his scruff scratching gently at her skin made Carol gasp. She blinked in amazement before slamming her eyes shut and gnawing her lower lip. The sensations coursing through her were incredible, and she was tempted to sink her teeth into his neck, but she fought the urge. She knew that the only way to keep herself from giving in…the only way to keep herself distracted was to talk. When she felt that she could string words together in a way that made sense, Carol licked her lips and whispered, "I needed this….time…away from the others." Her mouth was so close to his skin, and she knew he could feel the words as they left her lips.

The hunter knew he should say something, but he couldn't. All he knew was how those quiet, warm, breathy words felt a she whispered into his neck. He clenched his jaw tightly and let out a long, heavy sigh. Needing motion, his hands moved up, slowly, from her biceps, until he was clutching her shoulders. Carol shuddered but didn't stop him. He only lingered on her shoulders for a moment…then his hands were sliding down, slowly, carefully, along her sides…his thumbs pressing into her ribs while his fingers curled around to her back.

The way his strong hands were traveling down her sides almost made Carol growl In frustration, but she kept the sound locked behind her lips, and instead tightened the fist that she still had in his hair. There was a stabbing pain in the deepest part of her body, and Carol began to wonder if he was suffering in the same way…if this closeness was causing him any pain…any hurt that she could help him with. But fear and want continued to war inside her. A flicker of guilt entered her mind. There she was…with the man she needed more than her next breath, his hands on her body, and her fist in his hair…they were breathing each other in, locked in a moment they'd stolen, an escape from the unforgiving reality they lived in. Despite her crippling hunger for Daryl, Carol couldn't help but think that this wasn't fair. They couldn't hide from their problems, from the tragedy that was waiting for them back at camp. She couldn't allow herself to get lost in the smell of his sweat…not while the rest of her family was suffering.

If he wants this…if it's really what he needs, he'll take it….he'll find me again…we'll make time….we can try again.

With more effort than Carol would care to admit, she swallowed hard and braced one palm, flat against his chest. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pushed them apart, creating enough space for them to stare at each other. Daryl's fingers twitched nervously, clawing at her sides. He stared hard at her, his expression pained. He already missed the warmth he'd had in the crook of her neck.

As she focused on his face, his eyes…his mouth, Carol briefly considered using her grip on his hair to pull him down into the grass with her, to bring his body down on hers…but she knew she couldn't.

Not now.

"Daryl…" She managed to let the word fall from her tongue.

The hunter could only watch her and silently plead for her fist to stay in his hair.

"We….." she paused, sighing and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. The warm flesh, blood, and muscle beneath her palm was distracting and she couldn't help but think about how strong he was…all the times he'd saved her; she gently rubbed the spot on his chest where her hand was resting. She wanted to give him something in return…but an unseen force was keeping her from breaching that final barrier that lay between them. Taking another deep breath, Carol forced herself to speak. "We should go back…they'll be worried…they need us."

Daryl stared at her as if she were insane. His lips were parted to make way for ragged breaths and his brow was furrowed.

What's she sayin'?

Fear slithered suddenly into the hunter's chest as a realization struck him.

She don't want this…ya got no call to be here….touchin' her….

Horrified by his thoughts, Daryl's hands quickly dropped from her sides and he reached up in a clumsy attempt to push her hand away from his chest, but she stopped him. Her eyes burned into his and she couldn't stand the look on his face…the raw fear, doubt…she'd put that look on his face, and in that instant Carol knew he'd misinterpreted her words. All other thoughts fell away and Carol realized that nothing else mattered…the urgency was almost painful as she fought with herself, scrambling frantically for a solution, a way to make him understand that she wasn't rejecting him…this…His breaths had become quick and shallow, and he made another feeble attempt to push her hand away but she countered his actions. Carefully, without releasing her hold on his hair, Carol slowly eased down onto her side. She shivered when she felt the cool, wet grass pricking at her soft skin, through the fabric of her shirt, but she kept her focus on the man in front of her. Wanting to follow wherever she lead, Daryl extended one stiff arm and braced his palm on the ground as he mimicked Carol's movements and laid on his side. She still clutched his sweaty hair in her palm and she didn't want to let go.

Breathless and wild-eyed, the two survivors lay in the grass and stared at each other. One of Daryl's arms was still stretched lazily over the wet ground while the other rested on his hip. He figured that was best. His hands shouldn't be on her…near her. The hunter took a second to squeeze his eyes shut and wish that the pain below his waist would subside. Daryl was grateful for the bit of space…the breathing room that separated them.

Carol watched him through the gloom; she saw the way he was fighting with himself. Wanting him to understand, wanting him to know….Carol smiled sadly and loosened her grip on his hair. The loss of pressure made Daryl look at her, his eyes questioning. But she didn't pull away. Instead, Carol kept the small smile on her lips and started stroking his hair, brushing it back, away from his face. Her fingers were so delicate, every little motion was so careful…Daryl didn't know how to react. He simply watched, with tired eyes, as Carol smiled at him. She ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, over and over, her thumb brushing his temple, grazing his ear. Overwhelmed by want and fear and doubt, the hunter closed his eyes and tired to concentrate on the feeling of her touch.

He was all she wanted…all she needed. And he was laying so still, so close….letting her touch him. Carol wished they could stay there, alone, untouched by the rest of the raging world…together. She just wanted him to be at peace…she wanted to do whatever she could to help him, but they had others to think about. It would be selfish of them to stay… But Carol decided that a few more minutes wouldn't harm anyone…She could do that for him. "Daryl," she whispered. His sleepy eyes fluttered open in response.

"We need to go back," she repeated softly.

He gnawed his lower lip, not knowing what to say.

"We need to…" Carol continued, "But not right now."

Daryl's eyes narrowed.

"If you want…" she paused to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "We can stay here for a little while…we can head back when you're ready."

The hunter absorbed her words, and managed a slight nod. But he didn't know that he'd ever be ready to go back. He was painfully torn between the things he wanted to do and what he thought was right. He didn't know whether to be ashamed of his body's reaction to her, or to give in to the hunger that had driven him this far. He wished he could see into her mind and learn what she wanted. The hunter was mesmerized by the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair, and he only wanted to return the favor, but he was afraid to touch her.

Carol was playing absently with the ends of his hair, a soft smile still on her lips. She was still fascinated by the fact that she was so close to him, and that he was letting her do these things. She loved that she could bring him comfort, pleasure, at least in some small way. Having him watch her, while she did it, was making a warm flush spread over her entire body. Feeling restless, Carol mussed his hair playfully and let a nervous giggle escape her. He couldn't help the smirk that was tugging at the corner of his mouth. Up until then he'd been afraid that she would notice his arousal, but as they lay there, worries momentarily set aside…as she watched him, and continued to stroke his hair…as the hot blood pounded in his ears, Daryl considered showing her. It would be simple…he could reach for her..take her hand, guide her until she was touching him….and then she'd see. She'd know. Even as the thought entered Daryl's fevered mind, he knew that it was ridiculous…the whole scene was ridiculous…Too much blood had rushed from his brain and he wasn't thinking straight. The hunter was grateful for the fact that he still retained enough awareness to know that his thoughts were absurd. He couldn't keep thinking those things…picturing them. But her long fingers were still clawing softly, threading in his hair and she was making it impossible for him to force his body into submission. At once frustrated by, and thankful for Carol's presence, Daryl bit his lip and groaned.

When she heard the sound that seemed to come from deep in his chest, Carol felt an ache in the very center of her core. She knew that she was toying with him by keeping her hand in his hair, but she couldn't make herself stop. The effects her actions were having on him were intoxicating. With her thumb rubbing circles at his temple, Carol smiled at him. "You about ready to head back?" She asked in a whisper, knowing full well what his answer would be.

The way she was massaging his temple made Daryl want to grab her and pull her until she was pressed against him, but he fought to maintain control of his body. If he ever planned to get up off the grass and walk back to the truck, he needed to relax, but she was making it hard for him, and he suspected that she was doing it on purpose. His lids were heavy as she rubbed his temple and he grunted softly, savoring the feeling. From beneath his lashes, he studied her. Smirking in the dark, Daryl cast a quick glance downwards, considering the nagging pain that was keeping him awake. When he looked back up at Carol, the smile on her lips almost made him blush, but he figured he was past that now. "Think I'm gonna need a few more minutes…" he said in a hushed tone. Carol couldn't help it, she dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter. Daryl huffed, still smirking. When the laughter died down, they were still staring hard at one another, transfixed. The playful moment they'd shared seemed to dissipate and they both had to acknowledge the seriousness of their situation. They couldn't stay.

Tangled painfully in a strong web of fear and longing, Daryl and Carol lay on their sides, in the cool grass, staring at one another…each of them hoping that the other had an answer…a solution.

"Man, what are we gonna do?" T-Dog asked as he eyed the deputy.

Rick was seated beside his wife and son, the three of them huddling together on a thin sheet that they'd spread on the ground. "We need to get her buried, have a service. It's the least we can do." said Rick as he released a heavy sigh.

"I got that." T-Dog rubbed the back of his aching neck. "I'm talkin' 'bout after."

Andrea sat just a few feet from T-Dog, one hand cupping her forehead. The blonde woman spoke without looking up. "We need to go."

Glenn's arms were folded across his chest as he leaned against a nearby tree. "Where?" he asked, eyeing each of his companions in turn.

"Somewhere stable." said Andrea. "We need walls, a roof over our heads."

"She's right," Rick sighed, scratching at his jaw. "We can't stay. We need a building. A house would be nice…but if we can't find one…any building will do. It's better than stayin' out here, exposed."

Lori turned to face her husband. "This area…it seems pretty remote. You think there's more farm land nearby?" She asked, one arm draped around her son's shoulders.

"Could be," said Shane. He was slowly circling the dying camp fire, his heavy boots kicking at the embers. "But we'd be foolin' ourselves thinkin' we're gonna just stumble into somethin' like what Herschel 'n them had." Shane paused beside the fire and glanced over his shoulder. He stared at the Buick, the safe haven that the Greene family had retreated to after hearing Rick's news. "Ain't just gonna come up on a place with livestock…food in the pantry…"

"Maybe not." Rick added, "But we won't know what's out there till we start lookin'."

"When were you thinking of leaving?" Lori asked, eyeing her husband.

"As soon as possible. We don't need to spend another night outside, on the ground…" He brought one hand up to rub his tired eyes.

"I know it's not ideal…" said Andrea, finally lifting her head. "But everyone's exhausted. I don't think we have it in us to get everything packed and take off tonight. I say we bury Patricia, say a few words, and then try to get a few hours of sleep. We can leave first thing in the morning." She focused on Rick, waiting for his reaction.

The deputy ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "What do you think?" He looked around, gazing at his fellow survivors.

Glenn hugged himself tighter and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "I say we leave in the morning, as soon as everyone's ready."

"And you?" Rick asked, glancing at his partner.

Shane's hands were on his hips. "Ain't like we got a whole lot of choices man. But we need to move, soon as the sun comes up. We don't need to be wastin' daylight packin'."

Rick nodded, before eyeing T-Dog. "How much gas you think we got left in the tanks?"

"Enough to get us someplace safe. We did pretty good back at the gas station, loaded up. Figure we got a few good hours of drivin' left before them tanks go dry. I don't know 'bout the bike though; thing's got a smaller tank…might need to check in with Daryl." said T-Dog.

Rick considered his friend's words. "Alright. Worst comes to worst, we can always keep the bike in the truck bed and pack everybody into the cars." The deputy blew out a warm breath as his mind began to form plans for the morning.

Silence was settling over the small camp, but Carl broke it. He tipped his hat back and stared at his father. "When are we gonna bury Patricia?" The boy's face was pale, and his eyes rimmed with red.

Lori rubbed her son's arm, hoping to soothe him. "I think we need to wait until Herschel and his people are ready." she said softly.

"What about Daryl and Carol?" Andrea asked.

"We should wait for them…right?" said Glenn, as he stepped away from the safety of his tree and moved closer to the others.

"We don't know when they comin' back." T-Dog added.

"They shouldn't be out there," Shane snorted. "Ain't no call for them…for any of us to be wanderin' 'round in the dark." He shook his head and continued to pace.

"They just needed some time," said Rick, an edge to his voice.

Shane snorted again. "And you just let 'em take off in the truck?"

The deputy forced himself to stand, despite the soreness in his legs. He walked slowly towards his partner, only stopping when the two stood face to face. Rick's voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he looked Shane square in the eye. "Didn't think it would be a problem. And they didn't take off; they're just at the other end of the clearing. I figure Daryl's been through enough today…and Carol…" Rick paused, taking a moment to stare out at the surrounding darkness. "Carol deserves a moment of peace before we ask her to sit through another funeral." The deputy leaned in close to his partner. "She watched me put down her daughter…and she had to bury the damn axe in her husband's skull…now she goes into the woods and finds her friend…what used to be her friend…hangin' from a tree. Can you honestly tell me she doesn't need a little space?" Rick's eyes were narrowed as he studied Shane.

One broad hand came up to rub the back of Shane's head, and he took a step back, away from Rick. "So you're tellin' me you're fine with her bein' out there?" Shane gestured towards the far end of the clearing.

"I don't like the idea of us being scattered…separated, but she's with Daryl…they have the truck; they'll be alright." said Rick, the heels of his boots digging into the ground as he waited for Shane to challenge him.

The two men stood, eyeing each other. "How long are we supposed to let 'em stay out there? Couple more minutes…an hour?" said Shane. "Can't be waitin' on 'em all night Rick."

The deputy's jaw was set hard as he took a step towards his partner. "We're not goin' out to drag 'em back, if that's what you're askin'. They'll come when they're ready." Rick's tone was firm and he didn't wait for an argument. With one last lingering look at his partner, Rick turned away and walked back to where Lori and Carl were sitting.

Another uncomfortable silence had fallen over the group, and they each averted their eyes, pretending they couldn't hear the soft sound of Beth crying in the Buick. Restless, Glenn took off his cap and began to knead the bill. While he kicked absently at the ground, Glenn gnawed his bottom lip. "I can't do this!" he said after a few moments.

The others looked at him. "Do what?" T-Dog asked.

"Stand here!" Glenn answered. "Waiting…I can't do it. I feel useless." He ran one hand through his dark hair in frustration.

"Glenn, man, calm down. Ain't much we can do, alright?" said T-Dog

But the younger man just shook his head. "I'm not going to stand here, waiting for something to happen." With that, Glenn turned away and began walking back to small cluster of trees where they'd skinned the deer, earlier in the day.

"Glenn," Rick called after him.

"I'm going to start digging," he answered without looking back.

Rick watched as his friend reached the trees. He saw Glenn stoop to the ground and pick something up. When the deputy squinted through the gloom, he could see a shovel clutched tightly in Glenn's hand. Rick moved to follow, but his wife called to him.

"Let him," said Lori. "If that's what he needs to do, then leave him be. He just wants to feel like he's helping."

"I know," Rick sighed. "But he shouldn't have to do it alone."

"I'll go," said T-Dog. He stood with a groan and rubbed his aching neck. "You stay here with your wife 'n boy….ya'll can keep Andrea company." He cast a glance at the blonde woman, giving her a sad smile. Without waiting for a response, T-Dog headed in Glenn's direction.

Left to their thoughts, Shane, Rick, Lori and Andrea stared at one another…each of them wishing that they could say or do something to make a terrible situation just a little bit better. But there were no words to sum it up. Suicide…death, infection. The words didn't offer any comfort. They were merely labels that the survivors could use to describe the evening's events…labels that seemed paltry, inadequate in the face of such horrific tragedy.

Suddenly worried about the way that all of this was affecting his son, Rick Grimes felt the need to break the silence. "What are you thinkin' Carl?" The deputy eased down to sit beside the boy.

"What…what do you mean?" Carl asked, his voice shaky, unsure.

Lori eyed her husband, concern written on her face.

Rick brought his knees up and draped his arms lazily across them while he faced is son. "I mean about tonight…everything. You must have questions…just wanted you to know that it's alright to ask." The deputy licked his lips and waited for his son's response.

Carl bowed his head for a moment, thoughtful. When he finally lifted his chin, he looked at his mother and his father in turn. "Why'd she do it?" he asked, his sad eyes were wide and curious.

The adults all exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke.

"Why'd she hurt herself?" the boy asked again.

Rick frowned, feeling overwhelmed and unprepared.

Lori brought her hand to her son's back and rubbed gently. "I'm sure she had her reasons baby."

Shane's hands were locked behind his head and he continued to pace.

Knowing that the boy deserved an answer…at least some sort of explanation, no matter how cryptic, Andrea cleared her throat and focused on him. "It must seem strange," she said, her green eyes trained on Carl's face.

He studied her, a crease forming in his brow.

"That we spend so much time running, hiding, fighting…to stay safe…to keep the walkers away from us…and then after all that trouble, Patricia chose to hurt herself. That must seem very strange to you." Andrea's hands were resting in her lap as she waited for the boy to say something.

He nodded, the Stetson slipping down his face. He quickly pushed the hat back so that he could see her.

Andrea chewed the corner of her lip and thought carefully about her next words. "Does it remind you of what happened with Jackie? And Dr. Jenner…at the CDC?" she asked.

Again, Carl nodded, his expression somber.

"We live in a world where bad things happen…where people get hurt. It's terrifying, and ugly…and we don't know if any of this will ever stop. And sometimes…" Andrea paused; she could feel her eyes growing warm as she remembered Dale.

He would've known what to say…he knew how to give advice….how to comfort people.

Fighting to maintain her composure, Andrea rubbed her cheek against her shoulder, brushing away unshed tears. When she felt that she could speak again, she met Carl's gaze and continued. "Sometimes," she repeated, her voice softening. "People get tired of being scared. They stop running."

Carl swallowed hard as he stared at her. "Why would they stop?"

Andrea thought hard about her next words. She took in the sight in front of her…the child whose innocence was being ripped away, piece by piece, with every tragedy he faced…with every death he witnessed. He was surrounded by violence…by loss…and none of the people in his life…none of the adults he trusted could give him any answers. They couldn't tell him why the world had changed, or whether or not there was any hope…a way out. But Andrea knew that she could offer insight, at least a feeble attempt at an explanation for their latest tragedy. He deserved that much.

"Andrea," he said, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. "Why would they stop?"

She combed her shaking fingers through a mess of blonde hair and sighed. "Because they don't want to be afraid anymore."

The simplicity of her answer seemed to stun the group. Suicide…opting out, it was something that each of them undoubtedly considered at one point or another..since things fell apart. Even if it was just a fleeting thought, conjured in the back of a tired mind, in a moment of weakness…they'd all considered. All Andrea did was shine a light on the dark thought that they'd all shared.

Lori's eyes were closed, a tear rolling quietly down her cheek as she remembered Jackie. Carl saw that his mother was crying, and the sight of her sadness seemed to pull him from his trance. Blinking, he re-focused on Andrea. "They're giving up." he said.

Andrea's brows knit together as she studied the boy. "What?" she asked, confused.

"Those people…the ones who stop running; they're giving up."

Rick gently gripped his son's shoulder and leaned in close. "It's more complicated than that Carl…" but the boy didn't let his father finish the statement.

"That's just what it sounds like to me…what Andrea's talking about. It sounds like the people who hurt themselves…the ones that don't wanna run anymore…they're giving up." When Carl finished his thought, he looked around at each of the adults, waiting for one of them to correct him, but none of them did.

"You're right," said Andrea. She reached up to quickly wipe the shining moisture from her eyes.

Carl bowed his head for a moment, thinking about how to phrase his next question. "Why do they do it? Give up I mean." His blue eyes were fixed on Andrea.

The blonde woman clasped her hands in front of her lips. "I don't have all the answers," she admitted, "But I think that those people…" she felt a chill as she remembered how close she'd come to joining Jackie and Jenner at the CDC. "They think that there aren't any more reasons to stay in a world like this."

With a sniff, Lori dipped her head to plant a kiss on her son's shoulder. Rick scooted closer so that the boy was surrounded by his parents on both sides. Lori pulled the Stetson from her son's head so that she could run her fingers through his hair. He lifted his chin to look at her.

"Baby," she said, trying to smile through her tears. "I need you to listen to me now."

Carl managed a small nod as he stared into his mother's eyes.

She sniffed again and brushed a shock of dark hair from his brow. "There is always a reason to keep trying. You understand?"

The boy nodded just before his mother pulled him into her side and wrapped her arms around him. Rick inched closer, one broad hand gong to Lori's back. Together, the small family sat, grieving for those they'd lost, and taking comfort in the fact that they still had each other.

Andrea wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned away from the scene in front of her, and found herself focusing on Shane. The man stood just a few feet away…but there seemed to be an entire universe separating him from the others. His hands were still clasped at the back of his head, and there was a deep furrow in his brow. Her words, and Lori's, seemed to be weighing on him. Andrea watched him, and silently wondered what his reasons were. She felt a strong pang of guilt, knowing that she'd very nearly chosen to follow in Jackie and Patricia's footsteps.

I almost stopped fighting.

But Dale saved her; he'd had his reasons, and Andrea realized that it was past time she found her own.

Glenn grunted as he drove the spade into the earth. The metal tore at the ground with a soft thunk. He huffed, placing one sneaker on the back of the spade to drive it down deeper. With every grunt, Glenn seemed to grow angrier. His black hair hung in his eyes and his jaw was clenched; knuckles turning white as he gripped the shovel harder. Rusted metal struck the ground, again and again and again…Glenn only stopped when he heard footsteps. Panting, he looked up and stared with narrowed eyes. "T?"

"Hey man," said T-Dog as he advanced towards his friend. "Want some help?"

Glenn blinked and wiped sweat from his brow. "I'm good."

"C'mon," T-Dog urged. "Let me help; look like you're gettin' yourself worked up."

The younger man leaned against the handle, letting the shovel take his weight. After he'd had a moment to catch his breath, Glenn lifted his chin and stared at his friend. "Just…couldn't sit there…waiting."

"I get it," said T-Dog. "It's hard to sit still with all that mess in your head…Patricia…the virus…shit's hard."

Glenn nodded, his hands twisting anxiously around the wooden handle.

"I know you're pissed…scared…hell; we all are." T-Dog moved closer, his hand going to Glenn's shoulder. "But we gonna get through this."

"Just feels like we can't catch a break."

"I know. But tearin' up the ground ain't gonna change anything. You don't need to be doin' this alone." said T-Dog.

Glenn bowed his head. "You're right. It doesn't change anything…but it feels good."

"What's that?" T-Dog asked.

"Just getting some of the anger out…tearing something up…even if I'm just digging a damn hole…it helps." Glenn answered, his foot still resting on the back of the spade, keeping it anchored in the earth.

T-Dog couldn't help the low chuckle that came up from his chest.

Feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders, Glenn smiled softly. "Hey, at least it's better than the Shane approach."

T-Dog was already shaking his head. "The Shane approach?"

"Picking fights with everything that moves…screaming…I'm sure you're familiar." Glenn chuckled.

T-Dog allowed himself to laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You right about that. How 'bout you let me take a crack at it? I got some anger I need to work out."

Reluctantly, Glenn pulled his foot from the spade and handed the shovel to T-Dog. "Have at it." Glenn said, the soft smile still on his face.

T-Dog gripped the handle tight and raised the shovel up high before driving the spade violently into the ground. "Man," he said as he jerked the shovel free and repeated the motion. "This is helpin'."

"I told you," said Glenn. His arms were folded across his chest as he watched his friend dig. "Wish we had another shovel."

T-Dog paused, scratching at the underside of his chin. "I thought we did…"

"The truck?" Glenn asked.

"Dammit," T-Dog sighed. "You right; there's at least one more shovel in the truck bed.

Glenn stared out at the darkness, nodding in the direction he figured Daryl and Carol must be in. "Think we should…." but T-Dog cut him off.

"Naw, man." T-Dog shook his head and continued to dig.

"We don't know when they'll come back…"

"When they're ready," T-Dog grunted. "Whatever it is that those two are workin' out…they don't need no interruptions. Especially Carol…sometimes it seems like that woman don't get a damn second of peace around here. They just needed some time, that's all. They'll be back soon."

Glenn gnawed at his lower lip and sighed. "I can't imagine what it must've been like for her…finding Patricia…"

"Just be glad you weren't there," said T-Dog as he pulled the spade from the earth and flung a small pile of dirt over his shoulder.

"I worry about her…" Glenn murmured under his breath.

T-Dog stopped digging and stared at the younger man.

"It's just…" Glenn continued. "After Ed…then Sophia…I guess a part of me is surprised that she hasn't…"

"What?" T-Dog asked, "Opted out?"

Glenn lowered his gaze and ran a hand through his hair.

"Man, listen. She's seen some shit…we all have….but she was seein' it before the world ended. If all that before…with Ed…if all that wasn't enough to make her hurt herself…she ain't gonna do it now."

"How can you be sure?" Glenn asked.

T-Dog considered the question as he leaned on the shovel. He thought back to the people they'd lost…the ones who'd been taken, and the ones who chose to die. "Because she's stronger than that. She ain't Jim…and she ain't Jackie; woman's not goin' anywhere."

"Everybody has a breaking point…" said Glenn, the words coming out in a hushed whisper.

"She ain't there yet," T-Dog answered.

"And Daryl?" Glenn asked. "He hasn't been the same since we lost Merle."

"The man's hurtin'; can't blame him. I won't go as far as to say I miss Merle…lord knows…but I feel for Daryl…losin' his brother like that." T-Dog paused to shake his head. "Daryl's backwards enough as it is…doesn't play well with others, but at least when Merle was around, the boy had someone he felt comfortable with."

"He never mentions Merle," Glenn added.

"Nah," said T-Dog. "He won't talk about that…least not with me."

"You think he talks to anyone about it?" Glenn asked, curious.

T-Dog sighed as he glanced over his shoulder and stared at the far end of the clearing. "If he's talkin' to anyone, its Carol."

Glenn followed his gaze. "Why? I mean…why Carol and not one of us?"

T-Dug shrugged his shoulders. "Better listener I guess. Hell, I don't know. Maybe he just feels comfortable around her…I think they got more in common than they let on. Swappin' war stories…things like that."

Glenn nodded thoughtfully. "And you're sure they're alright out there?"

"They good." said T-Dog. "As long as one of 'em is there, the other one's gonna be fine." He smiled softly to himself and resumed digging.

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," said Glenn, a questioning tone to his voice.

T-Dog kept digging and didn't look up. "I am."

Confused, Glenn continued to stare out at the darkness, in the direction of Daryl and Carol's supposed oasis. The longer he stared, the more his brows seemed to knit together. "Wait…" Glenn mumbled under his breath. His eyes narrowed and his lips parted as a disturbing thought suddenly entered his head. Unprepared for the images that were appearing in his mind's eye, Glenn turned quickly back to T-Dog. "You don't think…" he gestured weakly at the far end of the clearing. "You don't think that they…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

T-Dog stopped digging and gnawed his lip. He was trying, and failing, to keep the smirk from creeping on to his face.

"They what?" T-Dog asked, prodding his friend to continue.

Glenn looked sick. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and hugged himself tightly. "I mean..." he was choking on the words. "It's Carol...she's not...and Daryl isn't...he wouldn't..." but the broken statement was really more of a question, one that Glenn wasn't truly prepared to ask.

"What?" T-Dog asked again. "You think they out there," he gestured to the opposite end of the clearing, "doin' more than just talkin'?"

Glenn winced, turning away.

"Because it sounded like that's what you was gettin' at just then." said T-Dog, as he fought the urge to laugh.

The younger man didn't know how to respond. He reached up to rub his neck and hoped that he could find a way out of the terribly uncomfortable conversation he'd inadvertently started. The fact that T-Dog seemed to find the whole thing amusing wasn't helping. Glenn paced for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, when he finally felt like he could say something, he turned back around to face his friend. "You're telling me the idea of..." He sighed, trying to find the right words. "The possibility that they're...that doesn't freak you out at all?"

T-Dog couldn't hold in the laughter anymore, a chuckle burst from his lips and he shook his head as one broad hand came up to wipe at his eyes.

Glenn rolled his eyes. "Would you stop that, please?"

"I'm sorry man," T-Dog laughed. "Shit's just funny."

"What about this is funny?" Glenn asked, his brow furrowing.

"The look on your face man..." T-Dog wiped at his eyes again, trying to compose himself. "Like you just walked in on your folks in bed...or someone told you the Easter bunny ain't real..."

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and tried desperately to rid his mind of the images that T-Dog had put there. "You're telling me none of this bothers you?" Glenn asked.

When the laughter died down, T-Dog shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see why it should."

"Because," Glenn insisted. He raised one arm in the air and then let it flop to his side in frustration. "It's Carol...she's a mom...and a widow...and she just..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," said T-Dog as he held up one hand. "I get where you're comin' from. You see her as a caregiver...someone who's always lookin' out for everyone else, but there's more to her than that. At the end of the day, she's a woman...and she's lonely. Ain't nothin' wrong with her wantin' to get close to someone. It's normal."

Glenn was struggling with the idea of Carol as a woman...seeking companionship, for lack of a more appropriate term that Glenn would not allow himself to think, let alone say out loud. "But it's Daryl..." the younger man protested. "He hates people...sometimes I think he spends more time trying to avoid them than he does the walkers."

"You got a problem with Daryl now?" T-Dog asked as he leaned on the shovel.

"No..." Glenn ran a hand through his hair. "That's not what I'm saying; I'm fine with Daryl...it's just...he's aggressive, loud...any little thing can set him off. I guess I just don't understand why Carol would seek him out when it seems like she's had enough aggression in her life."

T-Dog considered his friend's words. "I ain't gonna argue...Daryl has an attitude problem, no doubt. Tryin' to have a conversation with the boy...is like pullin' damn teeth. But..." T-Dog held up one finger to emphasize his point. "Take a second 'n think about how nice it'd be if he wasn't always bitchin' 'n moanin' about every little thing...if he wasn't always pissed at the world."

Glenn wasn't following; he stared at T-Dog with narrowed eyes. "You think he's just going to suddenly mellow out?"

The smirk was tugging at the corner of T-Dog's mouth again. "I'm sayin' he could...with some help."

Glenn felt his stomach turn as realization settled over him. He brought one clammy hand up to cup his forehead. "I didn't need to hear that..." he groaned.

T-Dog chuckled. "Man, relax. I'm just tryin' to mess with your head. I don't know what the hell they doin' out there. They just close; that's all. But..." T-Dog couldn't help himself, watching Glenn squirm was the most fun he'd had in a while. "Our boy is wound up pretty tight...I wouldn't blame him if he went lookin' for help to relieve some of that tension."

The younger man shook his head and took several steps back. "God..." he sighed heavily. He didn't want to think about his friends that way...about whatever tension they may or may not have...and how they might go about relieving it. He certainly didn't want to think about the possibility of Daryl and Carol together...in any physical way. Of course, as they say, you can't un-ring the bell. He knew he wouldn't be able to shake the idea of Carol as a woman, and he supposed, all things considered...the concept wasn't entirely absurd. But the idea of Daryl...as a regular guy with basic human needs, was harder to accept. As he stood beneath the tree, grappling with his thoughts, Glenn was reminded of the pharmacy run he'd made with Maggie...the one that changed their relationship. He'd been terrified, unprepared, but she just stared at him, with honest, open eyes, and told him that he wasn't the only one who was lonely. The memory quickly began to fade, and Glenn was left with the simple truth Maggie had shared with him...

I'm not the only one who's lonely.

As the words echoed softly in his head, Glenn seemed to experience a change of heart. His friends were good people...even Daryl, and they deserved happiness...comfort, wherever they might be able to find it. He knew that T-Dog was just teasing; there might be nothing more to Daryl and Carol's escape than two survivors looking out for one another, but he supposed that if there was a deeper connection...a physical component to their relationship...that those facts were between Daryl and Carol alone, and no one else had a right to judge them...that didn't mean he was comfortable with the idea of his friends engaging in...he couldn't even bring himself to think the words, but his opinion didn't matter. Coming to the conclusion that he was overreacting to, as well as over thinking T-Dog's theory, Glenn shook his head to clear the cluttered thoughts.

"Man, you alright?" T-Dog asked.

Glenn released a heavy breath and nodded. "Yeah. Just decided that whatever they're doing out there...it's none of my business."

"Good way to think about it," said T-Dog. "I'm sorry; we out here tryin' to get work done...I shouldn't be messin' with ya like that."

"It's fine," Glenn answered with a tired smile.

T-Dog resumed digging. "I really was teasin'...I don't know if it's like that with those two. That shit could all be in my head...I got an active imagination."

"I guess that's a good thing," said Glenn. "Gotta keep yourself entertained somehow."

"Yeah," T-Dog grunted as drove the shovel into the ground hard. "Lord knows what they actually doin' out there."

Daryl was strong. He had to be. Weakness had never been an option. He'd learned early on that crying didn't get you anywhere…and neither did praying, pleading, or bargaining with the almighty. No amount of tears could move a cold heart. Sniveling and cowering did nothing to curb his father's anger when the man took a belt to Daryl's back. No. There simply wasn't room for weakness…softness. The only thing that helped, when the leather snapped and bit into his flesh, was thick skin. He'd been left on the floor enough times, his back covered in red stripes, sticky and burning. He'd reached around, with a shaking hand and gently touched the raw flesh, blood staining his fingertips. He'd hissed, clenched his teeth and wondered how long it would take the fresh wounds to heal. But he didn't allow himself to crumble. Daryl Dixon had never had any intention of staying on the filthy floor where his father left him, each time the man felt an urge to unleash some of the rage that seemed to always be bubbling inside him. Instead of buckling beneath the weight of the abuse, and dissolving into a puddle of snot and hot tears, Daryl cursed quietly through his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and pushed himself up off the ground. His body would tremble with fresh pain and trapped adrenaline, but he made himself stand. Breathing hard, Daryl would take stiff, labored steps…one after the other, until he found Merle. Then, the beaten boy would steel himself as his brother tended to him with a terrible combination of hot water, rubbing alcohol and inexperience. The sharp smell of the chemicals always burned his nose and made his flesh scream, but he wouldn't cry. Daryl Dixon was stronger than that; he'd snarl, gnaw his lip until it bled, but he didn't let a single tear fall. Instead, he would stare, with cold, blue eyes, at the frightened boy in the bathroom mirror, and silently will him to be stronger.

Everything in the hunter's life had demanded strength, but now…laying on his side in the damp grass, with Carol's hand still tangled in his hair, Daryl couldn't help but feel weak. Despite the fact that Carol was only brushing her fingers, lightly through his mussed hair, Daryl knew that she had a hold on his entire being. She had power over him, control. Normally, the hunter would never allow another living soul to control him, but something seemed to tell Daryl that this was acceptable, that submission was warranted. He could let her do this. The feeling, of someone else having such power over him, was at once thrilling and frightening. He was at her mercy. He knew that she wouldn't hurt him…that she didn't harbor any desire to cause him pain or to manipulate him, but he was still scared. He knew, as he stared at her through the gloom, and listened to the soft sound of her breathing, that she could keep him there as long as she wanted. The thought unnerved Daryl, but he was too weak to do anything about it. His mind was racing, and the blood was pounding in his ears. All he could do was lie still, try to keep his breathing even, and wait for her next move.

But if Daryl was weak, then Carol was lost. She had everything she wanted right in front of her. He was laying in the grass, maybe two feet away…and he was letting her touch him. She couldn't ignore the significance…as if a wild animal, something secretive and predatory, had taken shaky steps into the light and allowed human contact. She knew that any sudden movements might startle him…shatter the moment they'd created for themselves. So she moved slowly, carefully, smoothing the hair behind his ear, hoping to soothe rather than scare him. Her eyes caught the movement as he shivered slightly. Carol wanted to close the gap…to damn the fears, all the possible consequences, and pull him until they collided. Despite the crippling hunger of her body for his, Carol was grateful for this simple contact. Her fingertips grazed his ear and she saw him close his eyes. When he opened them again, he was staring at her with an intensity that Carol could feel like a forceful touch. Even though she knew that they had somewhere else to be…responsibilities to their group…she couldn't help but think that this was right…this was where they were supposed to be. If they never did anything more than this, Carol would still be thankful. The connection was incredible, powerful, and for a moment, she wondered if any of it was real….if she hadn't been killed long ago and was now lingering in some dream world of her own creation. But as she studied Daryl's face…the way his lashes shaded his eyes…and as she felt the sweaty locks between her fingers, Carol knew that it was real. Daryl was real….as real as the sweat on her fingertips or the cool grass pressed to her cheek. She loved him, wanted him, needed him…but in an agonizing moment of acceptance, she knew that she couldn't have him. At least not yet. There were things they needed to do…friends who needed their help. Swallowing hard, and willing herself not to cry, Carol slipped her fingers further into his hair until she was lightly gripping the back of his neck. She felt him tense, but his eyes remained locked on hers. He wasn't running. Summoning every ounce of strength and self control she had, Carol let her thumb brush the nape of his neck and forced herself to speak. "Daryl…"

He grunted softly in response and tried to ignore the tingling in his spine as she caressed his neck.

"We need to go back." She whispered.

He focused on her eyes, the clarity…open honesty, concern…and something he couldn't name. She was right…they couldn't stay like that…lying weak and restless in the grass while the savage world continued to rage around them. They needed separation, air…and to clear their heads. Silently urging his body to relax, Daryl managed a stiff nod.

Knowing the nod was probably the only response she was likely to get out of him, Carol chewed her lip and slowly withdrew her hand. The loss of his warm skin, and damp hair, was terrible. Carol's hand felt cold and weak and she let it rest on the ground.

Daryl hated to lose her touch, but he knew that if he was ever going to calm himself and regain composure, she would have to keep her hands to herself. Releasing a trapped sigh, heavy with frustration, Daryl tore his eyes from hers and rolled onto his back. He brought his hands up to rest on his forehead. With his knees raised and his eyes closed, the hunter lay in the grass and fought an internal battle. He grappled with his own morality…the things he needed to do, and the things he'd only just realized he wanted.

Carol was still curled on her side, wondering if she'd made a mistake. But it was too late now, she'd broken the trance and now she had to watch as Daryl turned away from her. Sickening doubt began to churn in her stomach as she wondered if he was angry…hurt? If he resented her for toying with him….but she hadn't been toying…at least she hadn't meant to. No matter how dizzy her needs made her, Carol couldn't ignore the fact that there was more to life than her and Daryl. She hoped that he could sense it, that he somehow knew how much she cared…and that her wanting to leave wasn't a rejection, but concern for the group and the tragedy they were facing. She nodded to herself, trusting that Daryl was wise enough to know these things.

Behind the hunter's closed eyes, images flashed. The raw devastation on Carol's face when he'd found her in the woods, crying in the dirt and the leaves. The shock and anger of his friends as Rick confessed his terrible secret….the gray, broken form of Patricia's corpse. These visions, and countless others, were projected on the walls of Daryl's mind…and the sad, sickening combination was enough to restore his blood-flow to normal. His breathing began to slow and he could feel his need diminishing.

Fuck.

There was still some pain, but he clenched his jaw and pushed his hands back into his hair, knowing that it would be over soon. He thought back to all the times he'd been tested, pushed…cornered. He'd never allowed circumstance to overcome him, and he wasn't going to start now. A woman, and some hot blood rushing beneath his skin weren't enough to break his resolve. Daryl tugged lightly at his hair and continued to fight himself, hoping like hell that his struggle wasn't obvious to Carol. For one selfish second, the hunter envied the fact that Carol was a woman and that her feelings wouldn't manifest themselves in any physical form…at least none that he knew about or could see. The anger was helping…a welcome distraction. Daryl blew out a breath and felt his body continue to relax. Every second seemed to stretch itself into an hour, but eventually, after some very intense concentration and a great deal of internal coaxing, the hunter knew that he'd mastered his body….at least for the time being. As he'd done all his life, Daryl drew on his strength and pushed himself up off the ground. He stood on legs that were surprisingly shaky and worked to maintain his balance. While he rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at Carol, the hunter wondered if maybe she hadn't been fighting a battle of her own. She must have sensed that he was watching her, because in the next instant she was looking up, her blue eyes locked on his.

Knowing that neither of them could do this alone, Daryl bent down and offered her his hand. It took Carol a moment to grasp what was happening. Daryl was looming over her, his arm outstretched.

He's helping….

The realization was a powerful one, and it gave Carol the strength to move. With the tip of her tongue resting between her lips, Carol reached for his hand and clutched it tight. Daryl grunted, hauling her to her feet. Once they were both standing, the two stared down at the hands that were still clasped together. Her skin felt so soft, pliant in his grasp, and her fingers were so slender, pale against his. Carol felt the warm strength of his grip, and wished that she had a reason to keep the connection. Blushing, Carol cleared her throat and released his hand. Unsure of what to do next, she hugged herself tightly. Daryl flexed his stiff fingers, the ones that had just been wrapped around hers. He shook the soreness from his wrist and ran a hand through his hair while the other rested on his hip. Heavy silence was pressing in, like an unwelcome force, on all sides. The survivors lingered, beneath the moon, with aching limbs and damp skin. A soft breeze whispered over the grass and they could feel the salty sweat drying on their bodies. Feeling as though their fevers had just broken, Daryl and Carol studied each other. Sensing that there was nowhere to go but forward, Daryl nodded in the direction of the truck. "Ya ready?" he asked, his voice low and rasping.

The sound of his voice was enough to make her regret her choice to go back. She fought to keep from visibly shuddering as the words left his lips. Rather than run the risk of speaking, and giving herself away, Carol opted for a nod. Daryl gnawed his lip, staring at her for a moment, almost as if he didn't believe her. His critical expression was making Carol weak, all over again, and she knew that she had to regain control of herself. She couldn't let him see into her mind…all the carnal thoughts she was hiding…but she suspected that the flush spreading across her cheeks would serve as evidence of what she was truly feeling. The hunter's predatory eyes were fixed on her, and she knew that he could tell…like a shark sensing a single drop of blood in an endless ocean.

We can't do this again…I can't let him get to me….it took everything to get up off that grass…I don't have it in me to turn him down again.

Doing everything to convince herself that she could resist the man in front of her, Carol rolled her shoulders and moved past him. It didn't matter that he was making her temperature rise, or that the smell of his sweat, as she stepped past him, made her core hurt, she wasn't going to give in. She was stronger than that, or so she told herself. With more effort than she cared to admit, Carol continued to walk towards the truck, without looking back at him. She reached for the handle on the passenger's side door, but something stopped her.

"Carol?" He called out to her.

She stiffened, not wanting to look at him. It didn't matter how many times he said her name, or in what context…she loved hearing it. The handle was slick in her sweaty palm. "Yeah?" She answered softly.

"Sure you're alright?" he asked in a low growl.

She released a heavy sigh and felt her shoulders slump a little as she contemplated defeat. His voice was making her feel feverish…it was ridiculous to think that something as simple as a person's voice could make her come undone, but he managed to do it…time and again, without even realizing. Carol had to blink several times before she remembered that he'd asked her a question. She had two options; she could release the handle, turn around, go to him…give in, do all of the things her body was urging her to do…or she could stay the course. She could force herself into the cab of the truck, smother her own selfish wants, and help her friends with what was surely a terrible task back at camp. Her heart began to thrum in her chest as she struggled with indecision.

They need you….you can't hide out here forever. Patricia was your friend…you need to be there when they bury her…you should both be there. Worry about yourself later; they need you now.

With her mind made up, Carol tightened her grip on the handle and pulled the door open. She stared into the dark cab for a moment to calm her nerves. Glancing over her shoulder, Carol offered the only answer she could summon, "I'm fine." It was a lie, of course; they both knew that, but what else could she say? Without waiting for a response, she turned away from him and climbed into the passenger's seat. She pulled the heavy door shut and eased back into the worn leather of the seat.

Daryl didn't know what to say. Her words had been hollow, and something in her tone seemed to mirror his own frustrations. But they were leaving. She'd made her choice; the slamming of the door signaling an end to their brief exchange. Whether or not either of them really wanted to go back was irrelevant. Feeling lost, the hunter suddenly remembered his ankle, the pain shooting up his leg with alarming quickness. Stifling the urge to swear, Daryl ignored the nagging questions in his head and began to make his way towards the truck. He growled a little with each step, but he was doing his best not to limp. He didn't need any more of her help. Even if he did, Daryl suspected that further physical contact would do more harm than good. So, relying solely on his strength and his pride, the hunter made his way around the front of the truck.

Carol watched him; she could see that he was in pain, despite his efforts to mask it. Every instinct was telling her to go to him, to help. But in her current state, Carol knew that doing so would be a mistake. The thought of slipping her arm around his middle and letting him lean on her…being that close to him….was making her uneasy. If she got an arm around him now, she wouldn't want to let him go. She couldn't allow herself to get that close...

Not now.

So Carol sat, restless, and tried to ignore the fact that someone she cared so deeply for was in pain. She clasped her trembling hands in her lap and kept her head down, wanting to block him out. She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly jumped when he pulled the driver's side door open with a loud creak.

The short walk to the truck had taken its toll on Daryl, and he couldn't help but snarl as he hoisted himself into the driver's seat. He shut the door and leaned back in his seat, eyes closing as he waited for the throbbing in his ankle to subside. For a moment, the hunter wondered if he might've misidentified the snake that bit him. He was having trouble accepting the fact that something as minor as a bite, and a spill afterwards, had left him so uncomfortable.

'Cause ya been on it all damn day, smart ass… They all done told ya to sit tight 'n give it a rest, but your ass knows best, right? Naw, you'd rather be wanderin' through the goddamn woods at night, makin' things worse, when you should really be mindin' your own damn business.

The hand that was resting on his leg quickly balled into a fist.

Carol could feel the change in the air, the anger rolling off of him in steady waves. She wasn't sure if talking would help, but she figured if she didn't say something, he'd spend the rest of the night groaning and licking his wounds. "What about you?" she asked, without looking up.

"What?" he snapped.

"You alright? I know that's gotta be bad; you really haven't had a break today." she glanced at his ankle.

He thought back to the conversation they'd had in the truck-bed that afternoon. "It's fine," he growled softly. "I'm just bitchin' more than I oughtta." he reached down to rub his leg.

Carol felt a small smile creep onto her face. "So we agree then?"

"Hm?" He looked at her.

"That we're both fine." She met his gaze and forced herself to keep the faint smile on her lips.

Daryl slumped further back into his seat and blew out a breath. He was exhausted, confused, angry, frustrated, both mentally and physically, and he had no idea how he was going to handle Patricia's burial. But if he and Carol wanted to lie to one another…to themselves…then who was he to argue? He supposed it might make things easier; maybe it was the only way for them to make it through the rest of the night. "Yeah," he finally answered, drumming his fingers on his jeans. "We're fine."

Carol breathed a small sigh of relief and nodded to herself. "Good; let's head back. Bet they're worried about us." She leaned against the door, letting her temple rest on the cool glass of the window.

The hunter forced himself to sit up; he turned the keys that he'd left in the ignition, and the truck began rumbling to life beneath them. "They ain't got a reason to be gettin' their panties in a knot just 'cause we're out here." he said as he applied some pressure to the gas pedal and the truck inched forward.

Carol chuckled in spite of herself. His less-than-delicate phrasing would never cease to amuse her. "You don't think so?" She asked, one of her eyebrows arching slightly as she cast a sideways glance at the hunter.

Daryl snorted as he slowly turned the truck around to face the direction they'd come from. "Ain't nobody worryin' about my ass."

Carol had to concede. If anyone could handle themselves in this world, it was Daryl. He really was the last person to worry about when it came to going on runs, or scouting…at least for the others. She was convinced that he could handle just about anything the universe might see fit to throw at him. Smirking to herself, Carol kept her eyes on him. "What about me?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Daryl was focused on the field in front of him. "What about your ass?" he muttered without looking at her. The instant those poorly chosen words left his mouth, both he and Carol blushed. Daryl Dixon wasn't one to over think his words, but he knew, as the heat began to spread across his face, that those had been the wrong ones. He didn't need to be thinking about her ass..or any other part of her body…

Shit…

Now he had to think about not thinking about it. If he'd been alone, Daryl would've considered slamming a fist into the steering wheel.

Carol squeezed her eyes shut and brought one hand up to cover her mouth before the laughter could spill from her. It's not like this was anything new. The hunter was fond of expletives…his speech was often littered with them, and she supposed that 'ass' was about as common a curse as any…but something about the context…they way he'd said it…and all of the absurd, whatever-it-was, back in the far end of the clearing that they were leaving behind…all of these details just seemed to add to the awkward hilarity of the statement. She was starting to shake with trapped laughter, and she knew her eyes were watering, but she was trying to compose herself. She didn't want to upset him. With her hand still resting over her mouth, Carol quickly blinked away the moisture shining in her eyes. "What I meant…" a small chuckle burst from her lips, but it died down and she forced herself to continue. "What I was trying to say…was, what about me? You don't think anyone should be concerned about the fact that I'm out here…in the dark?"

Daryl tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The sound of her laughter made him blush harder, but at least she didn't seem angry, or offended. "Why should they be worried?" he asked, trying to sound normal and mask his embarrassment.

Carol sighed wistfully. "I don't know," she shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. "Because I'm not the best fighter…I'm not fastest or the strongest…"

The hunter cut her off with a snort. "Quit. You can handle yourself." He kept his eyes on the field; they were nearing camp.

Suddenly, it seemed to Carol that all joking had been set aside. His response had been immediate, honest. The laughter died in her chest and she was filled, instead, with a sense of awe. Her brows knit together and she stared hard at the man in the driver's seat. For several seconds, she wasn't sure what to say. Her heart began to thrum as she realized that she'd just received one of the highest compliments that Daryl could ever give another person. He didn't think she was weak…a burden…a liability. He'd implied that she was strong…self reliant…things that he held in the highest regard, at least it seemed that way to Carol. But she was still incredulous. Finally summoning the right words, Carol cleared her throat and asked him, "You really believe that?" The words came out soft, breathy, evidence of her shock.

Daryl slowed the truck to a stop and cast a sideways glance at her. The way she was looking at him…her eyes were such a clear, vivid blue, and she was staring at him as though he'd just said something amazing…revolutionary. He'd just told her what he thought. Plain and simple; that's how he liked to keep things. But he could see, in the blue of her eyes and the soft crease between her brows, that the words meant something to her. Daryl wasn't sure if his words had ever meant anything…to anyone. Suddenly overwhelmed, and out of answers, the hunter decided that a simple nod would say more than he ever could. He was gripping the wheel nervously, and gnawing his lower lip, her gaze was too intense and he had to look away, but he made himself nod.

Carol was speechless. Her exhausted mind could barely process the fact that the person she cared most about in the world had so much faith in her. The realization was staggering. She knew that she mattered to him, at least in some regard. She'd known that since the day he first went looking for Sophia. And she knew it when he approached her in the RV…when he offered the simple gift of a beer bottle with a flower in it. She knew it when he held her in the woods, letting her soak his shirt with tears. Carol had always been too afraid to let herself believe that his feelings towards her ran any deeper than friendship…but now. Knowing that this incredible man believed in her…Carol was in shock. Somehow, the knowledge seemed to resonate with her, more than any physical contact ever could. This was more than two lonely people, exploring each other beneath a tree…more than fingers pulling hair or teeth sinking into tender flesh…this was raw honesty. She wasn't just a warm body that he was seeking for release….he respected her. Carol stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips, disbelief and humility written plainly on her face. She blinked, trying desperately to say something…but she couldn't. The silence was deafening and neither of the survivors knew what to do, but before they could over think their situation, there was a soft tapping on the glass of the driver's side window.

"Hey…" T-Dog said as he continued to rap his knuckles on the window.

Daryl wasn't sure if he should be irritated by, or grateful for the intrusion. He grunted as he rolled down the window and let the engine die. "Hey," he answered.

"Man; it's good to see you two," said T-Dog as he leaned on the driver's side door and glanced at Carol.

She gave him a small wave.

"Figured it was about time we came back, see what we can do to help," said Daryl.

T-Dog's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "We appreciate that. Me 'n Glenn got started diggin' the grave; I think we can handle that part, but I'm just worried about how things are gonna go over when we actually get to buryin' her."

Carol leaned forward in her seat and looked past Daryl. "How are they holding up? Herschel and his people?" she asked softly.

T-Dog sighed heavily. "Not good. They been in the Buick. Maggie 'n Beth won't stop cryin…ain't much Herschel can do for 'em."

A shadow seemed to pass over Carol's features. "I should check on them."

"I'm sure that would mean a lot." said T-Dog.

Carol nodded and started to push her door open. Before she hopped down from the seat, she turned to look at Daryl, and their eyes met. They held the connection, silent messages passing between them. Carol told him that she was sorry, but she had to go; her friends needed her. And Daryl stared back with stoic acceptance. She held his gaze for just a second longer, hoping he could see the final thought reflected in her eyes.

I'll come back….as soon as I can….I need to go, but I'll be back.

As if he understood, Daryl gave her the slightest nod. Carol offered a weak smile before breaking the connection and hopping down to the ground. She gently closed the door, her eyes catching his through the grimy windowpane. Before she could change her mind, Carol forced herself to turn away and walk towards the Buick.

Daryl ran a hand through his hair to clear his head. When he felt like he could speak he faced T-Dog. "Anything I can do?" the words were the low growls of someone who was truly exhausted. But the hunter was willing to fight through his fatigue if that's what his group needed.

My group…

The sudden familial kinship that Daryl felt seemed to surprise him. He did his best to avoid attachment to these people, but somehow…when he spent time with Carol, he always ended up feeling just a little bit closer to the others. Almost as if she served as some direct link to the heart of the group. Even if he didn't necessarily like all of them, his concern for Carol made him more protective of the group…more willing to help.

T-Dog studied the man in the driver's seat. He could see the toll that this day had taken on Daryl. "Man, I know this probably ain't what you wanna hear, but…you been through a lot today."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he knew where this conversation was headed.

"After takin' that deer down…'n your ankle bein' busted…all that mess with Carol 'n Patricia…" T-Dog sighed, shaking his head.

The hunter's eyes flashed at the mention of Carol's name.

"Look," T-Dog continued, "All I'm sayin' is…you done a hell of a lot for us today. Me 'n Glenn are gonna finish with this grave, then Rick's gonna get everybody together for the burial. I really think you need to get some time off that ankle." T-Dog braced himself for the hunter's response.

But for once in his life, Daryl didn't have an argument. He was too tired to fight; his exchange with Carol…at the far end of the clearing, drained him of most of his energy. Feeling like a wild horse that had finally been broken, Daryl bowed his head and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He blew out a warm breath and closed his eyes. T-Dog was right; this day had put the spurs to Daryl's sides one too many times and he couldn't keep bucking and stamping, hoping to fight off exhaustion. "Alright," he finally answered with a rasping growl. "Ya'll need anything…you come find me."

T-Dog reached through the open window and placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder. The hunter was too tired to tense at the contact the way he normally would. The two men locked eyes. "I'll let you know when we ready to put her in the ground," said T-Dog.

Daryl nodded and moved to push his door open. T-Dog stepped back, giving him room. The hunter was careful as he slid out of his seat and eased his aching feet onto the ground. He winced the moment he tried to put pressure on his ankle. T-Dog moved towards him, trying to help but Daryl held up a broad hand, warding off any contact. "I got it," he said, "Ya'll just worry 'bout the grave." With that, the hunter began making his way, slowly and painfully, to the survivors who were still lingering around the dying campfire.

Glenn had been standing silently near the tree, a shovel still clutched in his hands, as he watched the exchange between Daryl, Carol and T-Dog. "So, they're okay?" Glenn asked.

T-Dog turned back towards his friend. "Okay as they're gonna be. Carol's checkin' on Herschel 'n them."

"And Daryl?" Glenn asked.

"Think he's finally realizin' that he needs a damn break," T-Dog sighed.

"At least the truck's back; we can use that second shovel." Glenn gestured towards the truck bed.

"Guess so," T-Dog answered. He circled the truck and climbed into the bed, searching for the tool he needed.

While T-Dog sorted through the supplies, Glenn leaned against the trunk of the tree. "I'm not sure how everyone's gonna take it…" the younger man said softly.

"What's that?" T-Dog called over his shoulder.

"The burial." said Glenn. He folded his arms across his chest.

T-Dog finally found the extra shovel and hopped down from the truck bed.
"We done it before." He walked back towards the tree. "Amy…all them folks back at the quarry…Dale, Herschel's wife…his stepson." T-Dog rattled off the names with indifference, knowing that the list would only get longer.

"But that was different." Glenn insisted.

"How?" T-Dog asked.

Glenn moved away from the tree and stood in front of his friend. "Because we were safer then…we had shelter…the RV…and then the farm. Yes; it was hard to bury Dale, Jo, Sean…but at least we had the small comfort of knowing that we had a home…something to build on…" Glenn bowed his head for a moment as the memories flooded his mind. "We had the luxury of leaving the gravesite…and retreating to the house…our tents. We had walls." Glenn anxiously tapped the spade against the ground. "Now…we're exposed. We're asking these people to deal with the death of their friend, the loss of their farm, and afterwards…all they can do is hideout in their car and hope that we have a roof to sleep under in the next few days?"

T-Dog sighed. "Man; what is it you want? We're doin' the best we can with what we got. We're lucky we even made it off that farm."

Glenn kicked absently at the ground, one hand on his hip. "I know…it's just." He lifted his head and stared out in the direction of the Buick. "I hate that she's going through this."

T-Dog knew that the boy was thinking of Maggie. "I know man; we all do. But this here…gettin' her in the ground; it's just somethin' we gotta do, alright?"

"Yeah; I know." Glenn abandoned the pointless argument and went back to digging.

As both men resumed their efforts, and made steady progress on the grave, they couldn't help but stare, down into the dark earth, and wonder who they would have to bury next.

Daryl raised an arm to shield his eyes from the orange light of the fire. After sitting in the grass with Carol, and lingering in the gloomy cab of the truck, the brightness of the flames seemed intrusive to the hunter. He stalked through the small camp, barely acknowledging the others when they lifted their heads and noticed him. He could feel their eyes on his back, but he didn't care, and he didn't want to talk. He just moved, silently, and with purpose, until he reached one of the thin sheets that the women had set down before dinner. Carefully, he eased down onto his side and then flopped, exhausted, onto his back. He could hear Rick's boots as the man approached, but Daryl just draped one arm across his forehead and closed his eyes.

"Glad you're back." said the deputy.

Daryl grunted

"Carol alright?" Rick asked.

"She'll be fine; just shook up is all." The hunter shifted, trying to get comfortable.

Rick lingered, standing beside Daryl's sheet. He wasn't sure what else to say to the brooding hunter, but he wanted the man to know that he was grateful. "Thank you," he said under his breath.

Daryl tilted his head and cracked one eye open so that he could stare up at the deputy.

"For lookin' after Carol," Rick explained.

Daryl closed his eyes again and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Woman don't need lookin' after," he muttered. "She just wanted space."

"Still," Rick added. "I'm glad you were with her."

The hunter snorted, rolling onto his side. "Wake me if ya gotta."

The deputy nodded before walking away and leaving his friend to rest.

Daryl sighed, wishing he had the privacy of his tree, but he knew his ankle would never allow him to get that far. So he had to make do with the camp. He tried to focus on the soft sheet beneath him, no matter how flimsy it was, it was the best he'd had all day. But that wasn't true… If the hunter was being completely honest with himself, the best thing he'd felt all day…the softest thing, was Carol's skin, at the base of her neck…where she'd let him rest his head as they sat in the grass. The skin had been pale, smooth, with a soft, subtle scent that was entirely hers. But it wouldn't do him any good to start thinking about that now.

Ya shouldn't be thinkin' about it at all.

Ignoring the memory was easier said than done. Daryl had encountered so little tenderness in his life…whenever he came into contact with something soft…kind, it was hard to forget. Given the group's precarious situation…and the constant reminders of how easily any of their lives could be snuffed out, Daryl was finding it difficult not to focus on the time he'd spent with Carol.

Fuckin' quit.

The voice in his head was harsh, but that's what Daryl responded to…forcefulness. He didn't know how to describe the relationship that he and Carol shared…if that's even what it was. Friends were pretty scarce during Daryl's childhood, and his adulthood. It was hard to make connections when he felt like no one else could possibly relate to him. So he'd been content in his solitude. He asked nothing of others and expected nothing in return. But somehow, the world ended, and he was left with this strange assortment of cops, kids, mothers…people. He was stuck with them, and he supposed, all things considered, that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if he let a connection develop. As the hunter's lids grew heavy, his breathing slowed. He could hear the faint sounds of flames crackling behind him…the hushed voices of the others as they engaged in whispered conversations. He was surrounded by people. The realization that he was part of this group struck Daryl, and he was too tired to convince himself otherwise. The last thought that lingered in his aching mind was of Carol. Maybe he couldn't put a name on their relationship, but he decided that that was alright; he didn't need to. They were part of the same group, and they had a connection…plain and simple. Satisfied, at least for the moment, with his conclusion, the hunter finally let himself rest.

Carol wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting in the cramped backseat of the Buick, but was willing to stay as long as the girls needed her. She sat between Beth and Maggie, the younger girl was hugging her, crying into her shirt, while Maggie was squeezing one of her hands. Surrounded by raw grief, it was all Carol could do to keep herself together. She let Beth cry; the girl was overcome with sadness, and she needed an outlet. As she sat there, one hand gently rubbing Beth's back, Carol couldn't help but think of the way Daryl had held her in the woods.

This is what the grieving need…someone to share in their hurt…to witness it.

Maggie was clasping her other hand so tightly…as if she were afraid that Carol might disappear. Herschel sat in the front seat, giving them space. He was silent, but Carol could see him reach up occasionally to dab at his eyes. The car was filled with misery, and it was almost too much to bare. Since Carol entered the Buick, Beth's sobs had turned into soft whimpers. She continued to rub soothing circles, focusing on the spot between the girl's shoulders. As she sat there, doing her best to offer some small comfort to her companions, Carol had a startling realization. A feeling was stirring inside her…something familiar… Her blue eyes grew wide when the word finally came to her lips…mother. She felt like a mother…she hadn't experienced a sensation like this since Sophia's death. But it was the only fitting title she could think of. These young women had lost their mothers…then Patricia…and they needed someone, another female figure to fill that void, if only for a night. Carol knew she could never replace the women they'd lost…and no one could ever replace Sophia…but for now, the three souls could cling to one another…they could pretend, if that's what helped. Feeling her chest tighten at the thought, Carol blinked away unshed tears and dipped her head just enough to place a soft kiss on Beth's hair. The girl shuddered against her. Watching Herschel and his family suffer was agonizing, but Carol was willing to shoulder the burden. She would let the tide of grief wash over her, if that's what they needed.

After what seemed like an eternity of cold silence, Beth finally spoke. Her voice was weak, and she faltered with her words, but she spoke. "I…I just don't know…why she'd leave…" The girl stammered and wiped at her wet cheeks.

Carol considered the statement and wondered whether or not she should respond.

"Just…" Beth sniffed. "Why'd she do it? Why'd she leave us here?"

Carol brushed the tangled blonde hair back from the girl's face. "She was scared." The words were honest, and Carol thought Beth needed to hear them.

"Wh…what?" the girl asked, her red eyes fixed on Carol.

"She was scared," Carol said again. "Scared of facing this new world without Otis…at least that's what I believe." Her words were soft; she didn't want to frighten the young woman.

"But she wasn't alone," Beth argued. "She had us…"

Carol smiled sadly. "I know." she ran her fingers gently through Beth's hair. "And she loved you…all of you." Carol took a moment to glance at Maggie, and then Herschel. "What she did…it doesn't mean that she didn't care…that she didn't love you. I think that she just wanted to be with Otis…she missed him too much." Carol was trying so hard to keep from crying.

"We've all lost people…" Beth whispered.

"That's true," Carol nodded. "But this was her husband…the person she felt closest to in the world; her heart was broken."

Beth sniffed again and rubbed at her red nose. "I just miss her…" the words were hushed.

Carol felt her eyes growing warm as she tried to think of how she would go on if something happened to Daryl…if she lost him…would she end up like Patricia? Reminding herself that there were others grieving, others who needed her help, Carol pushed the dark thoughts from her mind. Determined to remain strong for her friends, she resumed rubbing Beth's back, coaxing her to rest. Exhausted from crying, the girl nestled against Carol and continued to shed silent tears. Maggie leaned over, letting her head rest on Carol's shoulder. With hands clasped, and souls bared, the three women huddled together, each drawing strength from the other…and each mourning in their own way.

"We'll get through this…" Carol whispered, more to herself than the others. "We'll get through it."

"Should we wake him?" Lori whispered to her husband.

Rick stood, hands on his hips, and stared down at his son. The boy had fallen asleep, and was laying curled, on his side, near his mother. Glenn and T-Dog had come to the deputy, telling him that the grave was ready. Rick's first thought had been to gather everyone, but there was a sharp pang of guilt in his chest as he stared at Carl. The boy was asleep, enjoying a respite from the terrible world he lived in. But the deputy knew his son; he knew that Carl would want a chance to say goodbye to Patricia. There wouldn't be a second chance. Rick wasn't sure they'd ever revisit the clearing once they left. Sighing, he dropped to a crouch and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Carl," he said softly. "Carl; it's time to get up."

Lori tucked a strand of hair behind Carl's ear. "Come on baby," she whispered.

After some coaxing, the boy's eyes fluttered open; he frowned, rubbing at tired eyes as he sat up. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Rick bowed his head for a moment, trying to compose his thoughts. "They're ready." he glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the freshly-dug grave beneath the lone tree.

Understanding seemed to wash over Carl, and his eyes grew dark.

"Thought you should be there," said Rick. "We all need to be there."

The boy nodded and pushed himself up to stand on stiff legs. Lori followed, and the small family stood in silence, each of them studying the other, and wondering what to do next. Rick cast a quick glance around the small campsite, his eyes landing on Andrea. "Hey," he whispered hoarsely to her.

She stood, hugging herself. "Yeah?"

"You wanna wake him?" He nodded in Daryl's direction.

Andrea eyed the sleeping hunter and smiled sadly to herself, "Sure. You go on."

The Grimes family looked at her with thanks in their eyes and then began their silent walk to the grave.

Steeling herself, Andrea turned to her task. She was careful as she made her way towards the sheet that Daryl was lying on. When she reached him, Andrea knelt down and let one hand rest carefully between his shoulder blades. "Daryl…you awake?" She asked softly. "Daryl…"

The hunter felt a slight pressure on his back and eased his eyes open. He would've tensed but for the familiarity of the touch. Groaning behind closed lips and propping himself up on one elbow, Daryl blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He felt the hand fall away from his back as he forced himself to sit up. "How long was I out?" he asked with a sleepy growl.

Andrea was kneeling nearby, staring at his back. "Not that long," she said, bracing her hands on her thighs.

Daryl stiffened, turning suddenly at the sound of her voice.

Andrea?

He was surprised to see the blonde woman, and his feelings must have registered on his face.

"Rick asked if I'd wake you…for the burial," she explained, knowing that he must've been expecting Carol.

The hunter rubbed the back of his neck. When he'd felt someone touch him, he'd just assumed it was Carol. The realization that he was comfortable with her contact, and her's alone, was a bit unsettling for Daryl. But now wasn't the time to get lost in his own thoughts. He blinked again, trying to force the clutter from his mind. Andrea rose, taking a few steps back to give him the space she thought he needed.

When he was finally on his feet, the hunter clasped his hands behind his head and eyed the blonde woman. "We doin' this?" he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded, rocking back and forth on her heels. Feeling as though he might need a moment, Andrea gave him a sad smile and slowly walked away. "I'll see you over there," she said.

Daryl stood, his mind heavy with sleep and doubt. He tipped his head back, staring up at the moon, and idly wondered what time it was.

As if that matters anymore…

He could feel every ache in his body, every painful reminder that he hadn't slept enough. And now he'd been pulled back into the waking world, just to stand witness to even more suffering. But the hunter was not so easily shaken. If the others could do this, then so could he. Bitter, sore, frustrated and tired, Daryl put one heavy foot in front of the other and headed for the tree.

Slowly, but surely, the survivors gathered. Most wore bags beneath their eyes, some had tear tracks drying on their faces, but all of them were silent. Beth stood between Maggie and her father. The girl looked thinner, paler somehow…frail arms wrapped tightly around her frame as if she could keep herself from falling apart. She was trying not to sniff, to sob….but her nose was already running, and tears were brimming in her eyes.

Standing to either side, Herschel and Maggie each had a hand resting on Beth's back…the two of them serving as her support system. Glenn stood to Maggie's right, his arm curled protectively around her middle. Beside Glenn, Andrea and the Grimes family were standing quietly. On the opposite end, to Herschel's left, Carol stood alone, the last person in the semi-circle of mourners that had formed around the grave. The survivors seemed to huddle close to one another, as if each battered soul was seeking comfort, strength, from the other. None of them knew what to do or say, but they knew that they needed each other, and they needed to be present for this moment. While they waited, somber and scared, crickets chirped in the dark. A soft wind blew through the tree, making branches groan overhead…leaves brushed against each other, whispering. The sounds were familiar, almost comforting, but suddenly, the survivors lifted their heads at the sound of approaching footsteps. So many tired eyes stared out at the gloom, trying to make out the source of the sound.

Shane and T-Dog walked slowly, carefully, Patricia's corpse suspended between them. They'd taken time to wrap her body in a plain white sheet; the others didn't need to see what she'd become. Shane held her legs, while T-Dog gripped her shoulders. Despite their efforts to conceal the ugliness beneath sheet, dark blood was oozing, from the place where T-Dog had lodged the blade in her skull. A scarlet stain was spreading on the thin fabric they'd wrapped her in. T-Dog did his best to keep that part of the sheet hidden. He could feel his friends watching, their eyes locked on him and Shane as they neared the grave.

Carol's arms were folded across her chest and her blue eyes were filled with chilling sadness, like the cold water of a stormy sea. She shuddered slightly when Shane and T-Dog laid the corpse gently onto the grass, just at the edge of the grave.

You've already seen it….

Carol tried to remind herself; she'd come face to face with the horror that lay hidden beneath the layer of thin cotton. She knew the tortured face of the thing that had once been her friend. But the thought still managed to shake her. Steeling herself, Carol made a firm decision.

Don't cry…not again. You've cried enough for one day. It'll only cause a chain reaction…Beth will probably cry enough for all of us anyway…more tears won't solve anything.

She grieved, openly and honestly, when she discovered the body in the woods. Her body heaved with sobs she couldn't control and the anguish poured out of her, soaking Daryl's shirt.

Don't cry.

The voice in Carol's head was cold…blunt, and she closed her eyes for a moment, acknowledging the silent command. When her eyes opened, she was able to look at the corpse without shuddering. Carol realized that the woman she was, just weeks ago, wouldn't have been able to endure a burial without dissolving in tears. But she was standing on her own two feet, aching though they were, and she was forcing herself to bare witness to this tragedy. There was nothing holding her up, aside from her own will. No one had to seek her out and drag her, sniveling and scared, to the gravesite. She'd come of her own accord. She'd stared into the face of the man she loved…his hair between her fingers and his blue eyes roaming her body…and she'd set all her needs aside. She'd set aside her needs, every last selfish thought, and forced herself to leave the oasis she and Daryl had created. Instead of lying in the grass, with Daryl's sweat on her fingertips, she was standing with her friends, her family…where they needed her to be. Surprised at her own strength, Carol stood up, just a little straighter, and wondered if Daryl really did mean all those things he'd said to her in the truck.

I can do this.

The hunter squinted, trying to see through the dark. As he got closer, he was able to make out the others. They'd converged beneath the tree, their bodies forming a half-circle around the grave. This wasn't anything new; they'd all experienced loss at some point. The group had buried its fair share of people. But as he neared the tree, Daryl couldn't help but think that this was different…at least, he felt different. He didn't consider himself to be the same outsider he'd been when they buried Dale. He didn't feel like the misfit, lingering on the fringes while the others said their peace. Each step Daryl took seemed to reaffirm his belief that this time was different. This time, he felt like a participant…not an observer. It was his group that had suffered a loss, not just an assortment of people he happened to travel with. For several seconds, Daryl wondered what had caused the change. But as he rounded the group of mourners and saw Carol standing alone, he knew that it was her. She was the catalyst, driving him to change, whether she knew it or not. For whatever reason, she cared about him. He'd done his best to scare her, to keep his distance and ward off any contact, but she still sought him out. He'd snarled at her, lashing out at the slightest provocation, blaming her for things that weren't her fault…but in the end….after he'd exhausted himself…when his voice grew hoarse from yelling and he had no more curses to spit at her, she was always there…still standing, like a tower that couldn't be knocked down. That was how Daryl knew…it was her resilience…her unending concern that had pulled him, unprepared and unwilling, into the fold. And so it seemed natural that he should seek her out, stand with her.

Carol blinked, glancing to her left when she heard his uneven gait. Part of her was surprised to see him standing there, but in her heart of hearts, Carol had known that he would come…that he would be just where she saw him now, at her side. Their eyes met and Carol gave him the faintest hint of a sad smile; she hoped he could see it, even through the gloom. Daryl acknowledged her with a slight nod, their eyes holding the connection for a moment longer. She knew that she was strong enough to do this alone….without him….but she couldn't deny the fact that having him there meant everything. Secretly grateful for one another, Daryl and Carol lifted their chins and focused on the burial.

With everyone present, Shane and T-Dog felt that they should continue. The two men exchanged glances. "How you wanna do this?" Shane asked in a hushed tone.

T-Dog rubbed the back of his head. "If you get down there," he gestured to the grave. "I'll try 'n hand her down."

Shane nodded. "Alright then." He eased down, grunting when his boots hit the soft earth below. He stared up at T-Dog and motioned for him to pass the body down.

Trying to ignore how cold the blanketed corpse felt in his arms, T-Dog lifted Patricia and carefully transferred her into Shane's outstretched arms.

The Greene family took in the scene, their eyes locked on the corpse. They leaned forward, watching as Shane knelt and let the body rest on a bed of dark soil. The white sheet seemed so bright, almost pure, in the blackness of the grave. Wiping sweat from his brow, Shane cast one last glance at the body before clambering out of the hole. Once he was standing with the others, Shane wiped the dirt from his hands and waited for someone to speak.

The survivors eyed each other, each of them wondering if someone else would step forward. Rick looked at Herschel, thinking the farmer might want to say something, but the man didn't appear to be in any shape to give a eulogy. Realizing that the task would fall to him, the deputy took a deep breath and moved away from his family. He made his way around, to the head of the grave, and dropped to one knee, his green eyes staring down at Patricia's corpse. Feeling so much older than he was, Rick bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the others watching, the terrible weight of their stares as he struggled to find the words he needed. When he felt he had the strength, Rick lifted his chin and faced the group. "I know…" he started to speak, his voice faltering. "I know that there's nothing I can say…nothing anyone can say, that will make this better. There's nothing that will make it go away."

The clearing was blanketed in silence, but for Beth's hushed sobs.

"And I know, that this came as a shock." He glanced down at the body for a moment. "No one could've known…" The words seemed inadequate to Rick, but they were the only ones that came to mind. "All we can do now…is accept what's happened, and try to move on. I'm not sayin' we need to forget her…" the deputy felt as though heavy stones were being laid on his chest as he tried to speak. "We never forget those we've lost; we shouldn't…but we can't let this….this tragedy, break us." He stood then, hoping to add emphasis to his words. "We've had a lot thrown at us these past few weeks…but we're still here. We're strong, and we'll get through this. We'll mourn, we'll remember…but we have to keep going. I think that's what Patricia would want."

Rick heard a few sniffs, and saw some nods. He supposed it was all he could expect from them at the moment.

"She was tired," the deputy continued. "Tired of runnin', livin' like we do. And I can't blame her for that. I won't hold it against her; we don't have the right to judge. But…" He paused, collecting his thoughts. "We can't stop." He held out his hands, almost pleading with his fellow survivors. "No matter what we have to face…no matter how hard it is…we can't stop trying."

Lori pulled Carl into her side; mother and son were both shedding silent tears. Maggie hid her face in the crook of Glenn's neck and clutched at his shirt. Beth was trembling with trapped sadness. As Rick's words hung in the night air, each of the survivors absorbed them differently, and each of them mourned in their own way. Running noses were rubbed on shoulders, heavy sighs were released from aching lungs…sniffs and whimpers disturbed the silence, heads were bowed in reverence of the dead…secret prayers formed and died behind locked lips. Amidst all these manifestations of grief and comfort, small rituals and habits, one went unnoticed. At the end of the curved line of mourners, Carol felt the need to act…to reach out and make a connection, however slight, with the person she cared for most on this earth. Without hesitating, or asking permission, Carol lowered one stiff arm, letting it hang at her side. Her fingers flexed anxiously, but she didn't give herself time to over think the action. She kept her eyes trained on the grave site while her hand sought his in the dark. The moment her warm fingers curled around his, Daryl looked at her.

He saw that she was focused on the grave, but he couldn't ignore the warmth of her grip. He glanced down, studying the way her hand was wrapped around his. Unprepared for everything stirring inside him, Daryl gnawed his lower lip hard. Nervous, scared…he started to move his hand.

For a moment, fear stabbed at Carol's chest and she worried that she'd upset him, but in the next instant, she felt his calloused fingers threading with hers, leaving their hands clasped, as they should be. When she realized that he wasn't running…that he was allowing, and even embracing the contact, Carol felt the tears she'd been keeping at bay begin to well in her eyes. In that moment, surrounded by her friends and family, staring down into the dark grave…Carol's mind, heart, and body were aching with so many sensations. She was tired; they all were…the heels of her feet had gone numb, and the soreness in her back seemed to spread throughout her frame. She wasn't even sure if she had the strength to cry any more. But despite everything…Carol was grateful….for her friends, her fellow survivors…and for Daryl.

I'm not alone.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, trying desperately to contain everything rioting inside her. When she thought that she might snap beneath the weight of so many thoughts, something made her open her eyes. The motion was so small…so subtle…but it was enough to leave Carol breathless. Maybe he'd been able to sense her mounting tension, or maybe he was just acting on instinct, guessing…but he'd increased the pressure on her hand, holding her just a bit tighter…almost as if he was afraid to let go…and then he moved his thumb, running it gently along her knuckles.

Carol assumed that Daryl didn't have much experience when it came to comforting others…consoling them. To the untrained observer, he was all hard edges and hostility. There was nothing soft about him. But Carol knew that wasn't true. The simple motion, of his calloused thumb brushing her knuckle, let her know that he cared…that he harbored a desire to bring comfort, to help her…. Carol took a shaky breath and blinked away unshed tears. Somehow, the fact that no one had noticed their clasped hands…and that no one knew how softly and carefully Daryl was rubbing her knuckle, made it that much more significant…special. It was as if the two of them shared a secret. His grip was keeping her awake, alive…it was the one thing tethering her to the earth.

Carol was shaken from her trance when she noticed movement. Beth had stepped out of the line of mourners and was walking towards the grave. When she reached T-Dog, she held out a pale arm and opened her palm. T-Dog understood; without speaking, he knelt to grab the shovel and offered it to her. She sniffed as her thin fingers curled around the handle. Mustering her strength, the girl sunk the spade into the pile of dirt that Glenn and T-Dog created as they dug the grave. Sniffing and trembling, she lifted the shovel and poured the rich, dark soil over the body. Overcome, Beth turned, eyeing the others. The shovel was shaking in her grasp as she waited for someone to help her. For a moment, Carol considered going to the girl's aid, but then Maggie was stepping forward. The older Greene girl gently took the shovel from her sister. She repeated Beth's motions, covering the corpse in a fresh layer of dirt. One by one, each of the survivors took a turn. No one spoke. The only sound was the soft pat of soil hitting the sheet that Patricia was wrapped in. Daryl was the last in line; his eyes caught Carol's for half an instant before he moved away from her side. As the hunter finished pouring the soil over Patricia, he turned to face Rick. The group's leader nodded and motioned for Daryl to hand him the shovel. Taking a deep breath, the deputy gripped the handle tightly and faced his companions. "I'll finish up here," said Rick, his voice low.
"You all should get some rest; we're leavin' in the morning." He didn't wait for their responses; he simply began driving the spade into the pile of earth and continued to bury the body.

Sensing that there was nothing else they could do or say, the others began to leave. They walked stiffly, slowly…unsure of their destinations. The group broke apart, some headed back towards the small camp-site, while others sought refuge in the vehicles. As they walked, Daryl fell into step beside Carol. Their hands weren't clasped, and neither looked at the other, but they felt the need to stay close. The hunter's hands were in his pockets…and Carol's were tucked under her arms as she hugged herself. They knew that if their hands were free, they might seek each other out, and neither was sure how appropriate that would be…now that the burial was over. Truth be told, Daryl and Carol how no idea where to go…how to move forward. Everyone else seemed to have a place. The Greene's would be together with Glenn…the Grimes would seek shelter within the truck…Shane preferred solitude. T-Dog and Andrea were speaking softly up ahead. Normally, Carol would stay with the blonde woman, and she supposed she still could…

But where will Daryl be?

She lifted her head and squinted, trying to make out the hunter's lone tree in the distance. The thought of him being so far away left her feeling cold inside. She didn't want to close her eyes at night, knowing he wasn't within her reach. She didn't want him to go…

Not now…not after everything

But it wasn't her place to ask him to stay. She had no claim to the brooding man beside her. He would make his own choices, as he always did. When the small group reached the campsite, Shane, Andrea and T-Dog each slumped down by their trees and began arranging their meager bedrolls. An unseen force was driving Carol forward. She and Daryl kept walking, their pace slowing as they reached the edge of the camp. Fearing that she couldn't follow him…that she would be intruding, Carol stopped. She hugged herself tighter, and felt her palms grow clammy as nervousness overtook her. Rooted to the spot, she kept her sad eyes trained on the hunter's back. He'd taken a few steps without her, but as if he'd suddenly noticed that she'd stopped, Daryl turned to glance at her over his shoulder.

For some reason, the hunter simply assumed that she'd follow him. He was surprised when the sound of her footsteps died.

What're ya thinkin'? She ain't got a damn reason to follow your ass…

But another part of Daryl seemed to disagree. And when he studied her face…her blue eyes wide and pleading, her lips parted as if she might speak, he knew that her thoughts couldn't be far from his own.

Does she wanna come with me? Should I stay?

Daryl didn't know, and he suspected she didn't either. Realizing that he'd already lingered too long, the hunter gave her a slight nod, as if to say goodnight, and made himself turn away.

Carol felt weak as she watched him leave. For a moment, her mind struggled to accept the fact that he hadn't stayed. She was in denial.

How can he leave? After all of this…he still wants to be alone?

She didn't understand. He was walking away, his form growing smaller as he made his way into the gloom. He left, and he hadn't asked her to join him. It was then that Carol had to acknowledge Daryl's choice. She clutched herself so tightly that her ribs hurt, but she needed to keep herself together. She would not allow herself to cry. He'd done enough for her; she couldn't ask him to be her shadow…and she didn't need a guardian. Carol knew she was strong enough to stand without him, but that did little to ease the pain of watching him walk away.

It's not a rejection…he can't reject something that was never offered.

Whatever happened between them, at the far end of the clearing…it hadn't changed anything…not truly. Or it seemed that way to Carol. She wanted him before they'd ever come to the clearing, and she still did. But she couldn't claim to know what he wanted. While her hands were lost in his hair, and his warm breaths were tickling her neck, Carol had let herself believe, that maybe….there was a chance he craved more than friendship…but she supposed that her previous theories had been more accurate. She was just the flesh he had access to…it could have been anyone's fingers tangled in his hair. The nagging doubts resurfaced in her mind, and Carol squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out. However he felt towards her, Carol decided it was best to focus on how grateful she was for his companionship…for the fact that he'd held her hand at the gravesite…for the way he'd let her soak his shirt with tears as they sat in the woods….No matter what happened next, nothing could take those memories away from Carol. Resigning herself to the fact that Daryl had gone, Carol rolled her aching shoulders and turned back to find a place to bed down in the small camp.

"You ready?" T-Dog asked as he eased back against the trunk of his tree, doing his best to get comfortable.

Andrea slipped into her sleeping bag and sighed. "Ready for what?"

"Tomorrow." T-Dog answered.

Shane was already on his back at the base of another tree, hands clasped behind his head as he tried to fall asleep. "Man, don't matter if folks are ready or not; we're leavin'."

"Just wonderin' what we're gonna find out there," said T-Dog as he stared out at the surrounding gloom.

"We've lived on the road before," said Andrea. "We can do it again."

T-Dog drummed his fingers on his stomach. "That was when we had an RV…"

"There's gotta be somethin' out there," said Shane. "We'll find it…just don't know how long it's gonna take."

Andrea ran a hand through her hair. "Just hope it's sooner rather than later…we need something perm..." but she didn't have a chance to finish the thought The three survivors all looked up when they saw Carol approaching. For some reason, they seemed surprised to see her. "Hey," Andrea said softly.

Carol nodded a greeting and stood awkwardly in the center of the small camp. She reached up to rub the back of her neck and felt like she'd been stood up for a date…

This is stupid….you're friends…that's it. Nothing more.

But the looks on T-Dog and Andrea's faces were making things worse. They seemed confused by her presence, as if they'd expected her to bed down somewhere else. Knowing that the longer she stood there, silent, the worse she'd feel, Carol forced herself to speak. "Room for me?" She asked Andrea.

The blonde woman gave her friend a sad smile, "Of course. Come on." She beckoned Carol. Andrea unzipped the sleeping bag, making room. When both women were relatively snug, Carol sighed in relief and let her head fall to Andrea's shoulder.

T-Dog and Andrea smiled softly as they watched Carol curl up. "Long day?" Andrea asked when she felt Carol's head hit her shoulder.

Carol couldn't help the snort that escaped her as she nearly laughed. "Yeah; you could say that." Her eyes were closed and she was quickly allowing exhaustion to overtake her.

"Well, It's over now; try to rest. Rick's gonna grab Shane to take over on watch in a while." said Andrea.

Carol managed a weak nod but didn't open her eyes. She forced herself to focus on the warmth of the sleeping bag, and how nice it felt just to lie still. Her mind and body had been through so much in the last 24 hours…just thinking about it made Carol's bones hurt. But she was safe now…as safe as she could be…surrounded by her friends. She could finally let herself shutdown. Desperate to escape the churning thoughts in her skull, Carol released a heavy sigh and let the blackness close in around her. T-Dog and Andrea continued to speak in hushed whispers, and the familiar voices offered some small comfort as she slipped away from the waking world, and into dreamless sleep.

Daryl stood beneath his tree and stared down at his small pile of belongings. Normally, the hunter was grateful for peace and quiet…privacy. But now, standing alone with his thoughts, the hunter felt no great love for his hideaway. The large tree, that had been an oasis the day before, now seemed cold…desolate. He scratched at his scalp and wondered what it was that had prompted him to isolate himself. What was it that he'd been trying to keep at bay? What was he afraid of? Daryl didn't know anymore. He'd stood with the others, helping to bury Patricia…he'd been a part of the group…and now? What was it that convinced him to remain on the outside? Even someone as stubborn as Daryl could admit to being wrong. He'd done everything to keep himself closed off…to scare the others away…and he'd failed. Those stolen moments with Carol were all the proof he needed. Somewhere along the line, he'd let them in…he'd let himself become part of the group. What sense did it make to go on resisting? The hunter knew that his strength was better saved for other things. With his tired mind made up, Daryl knelt and began to gather his possessions.

The clearing was cloaked in a thick blanket of darkness. Even the stars seemed dim. The field was silent but for the sound of light breathing as the survivors tried to sleep. There were groans, soft snores, and hushed mumblings as the shaken souls did their best to escape the waking world. Backs were bruised against rough bark, and shoulders ached as bodies struggled to rest on the hard, cold ground.

As she slept, Carol's hand was traveling slowly down Andrea's side. The warm skin felt nice, familiar beneath Carol's palm and she hugged her friend's body closer, nuzzling the space between Andrea's shoulder blades. The blonde woman was sleeping too heavily to notice her friend's movements. Behind Carol's tired eyes was another body…Daryl's. Her wandering subconscious mind convinced her that the warmth beside her came from Daryl…and she wanted to keep him close…which led to her arm curling around Andrea's waist, her hand sliding lovingly down the other woman's side. She imagined that it was the hunter's strong back that she was curled against, and so she nuzzled it, feeling wonderfully safe, loved, and warm. But as Carol filled her lungs with Daryl's scent, or what should have been his scent, she realized something was wrong. A crease formed in her brow and her fingers tensed. Through the haze of sleep Carol seemed to realize that the skin beneath her fingertips was too soft…and there was no trace of the hunter's smell. Confused, Carol's eyes flickered open and adjusted to the gloom. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was…she'd been pulled from her unconscious state so suddenly. Her heart rate sped up and she adjusted in the sleeping bag, only to realize that Andrea lay on her size, just inches away. Allowing herself to breathe, Carol reached up to cup her sweaty forehead.

Camp….I'm at camp….in Andrea's sleeping bag.

Mortified at the fact that she'd been touching her friend, Carol felt herself blush. Her caresses had been innocent, but she still couldn't believe what she'd done. She had no right to put her hands on Andrea.

Thank god she didn't wake up…

Hating the fact that her body seemed to crave him even when she was sleeping, Carol shook her head and sighed. She did her best to scoot back, away from Andrea, putting some space between their bodies. Suddenly, the sleeping bag seemed so small. As Carol tried to get comfortable, something made the blood freeze in her veins. She could hear the sound of hushed footsteps on wet grass…twigs crunching softly beneath the weight of heavy boots. She quickly glanced around, but her fellow campers were sound asleep. Nervous, and with sweat quickly breaking out beneath her clothes, Carol fumbled within the confines of the sleeping bag and sought out the knife that was clipped to her waistband. She heard Andrea mumble something beside her, but the blonde woman didn't wake up. Terrified, Carol sat up, rigid, with the small blade clutched tightly in her clammy hands, and waited. The sound was getting louder and Carol's wide eyes scanned the clearing, but she couldn't pinpoint the source of the sound. Nearly ready to scream and wake the others, Carol clenched her jaw, and tried to keep her hands from shaking. But just as she moved to rise, the footsteps stopped. As she fought to regulate her breathing, Carol blinked. A figure was emerging from the darkness, and Carol felt her entire body tense. But just as the adrenaline seized her heart and made her stand, knife raised, she realized that the figure in front of her was a familiar one.

Daryl….?

But she was still too shaken to speak.

He stared at her, silently urging her to calm down. Slowly, carefully, the hunter set his things on the ground, a few feet from Carol and Andrea's sleeping bag.

Carol watched him, her heart still hammering in her chest. She swallowed hard, and tried to regain her composure. She wasn't sure what startled her more…the fact that Daryl was there…or the possible reasons behind his being there… Since she was too afraid to ask, and she knew he wouldn't want to answer, she decided to let it go. Clipping the knife back onto her belt, Carol blew out a breath and ran a hand through her mussed hair.

The hunter watched her as she quietly crept across the small camp site, carefully navigating the sleeping bodies. Squinting through the dark, Carol found what she was looking for. Bending to grab the thin sheet from the ground, she bundled the fabric in her arms and made her way back to where Daryl stood. When just inches remained between them, their eyes met. Daryl's brows knit together; he didn't understand. Summoning her courage, Carol extended her arms, offering him the bundle of fabric. "Go on," she whispered, a faint blush on her cheeks. "You're going to need something to keep you warm." Her voice was low, and the words only made her blush harder.

What am I doing?!

Carol wondered what it was about this man that made her embarrass herself on a regular basis.

Daryl felt his temperature rise as she whispered to him. In that moment, he knew he didn't need the blanket…or anything else for that matter. He was warm enough already. But he couldn't very well say that to her, so he swallowed, willing himself to remain calm, and accepted the offering. "Thanks," he whispered.

Carol nodded and turned away, leaving to him his business. She eased back into her sleeping bag, doing her best not to disturb Andrea. Knowing that she would have to work even harder to fall asleep now, with him so close, Carol squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax, but her mind was racing.

He's here….He came back….He came back on his own, because he chose to.

The thought was making Carol warm. She tried to lie still as she listened to him bedding down. She could hear soft grunts as he eased onto the ground and fidgeted with the sheet. When he finally stopped moving, he released a heavy sigh and Carol smiled in the dark, happy to have him near her. She knew that she should leave him alone, that they both needed to rest, but she couldn't stop herself. The knowledge that he was lying in the grass, several feet away, was too much. She had to say something. "Daryl," she breathed, without looking at him.

"Hm?" He growled softly, adjusting a small bundle beneath his head,

"I'm glad you're here…" she whispered, trying but failing to keep the smile out of her voice.

Daryl didn't know how to respond. The fact that his presence made her happy…was somehow staggering. Since when had Daryl Dixon ever made anyone happy? Knowing that he'd never be able to voice all of the thoughts that were suddenly spinning in his head, the hunter decided to put an end to their conversation. "Go to sleep Carol; it's late." He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

She felt joy bubbling beneath her skin when he spoke. She knew that tone; he was trying to sound angry…frustrated, but he wasn't.

He's glad to be here…

Content, grateful, hopeful, Carol let her own eyes close. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips, and single thought looming large in her mind.

He's here….

The morning stabbed at Andrea's eyes. She blinked, struggling against the invading light, white-hot and stinging.

"Christ…" she muttered to herself…her body already protesting the idea of getting up. Her neck was sore and she rubbed it, hoping to drive out some of the stiffness. She sensed movement nearby, and glanced over her shoulder to see that Carol was still asleep. A faint smile crept onto Andrea's face; Carol looked almost peaceful. It was so rare to see the woman in any state of relaxation that Andrea was loathe to wake her.

Propping herself up on her elbows, the blonde woman took a moment to survey the small camp, and see who else was up. She noticed Rick and Shane standing near the pick-up, both men seemingly engaged in important conversation. As she took in her surroundings, Andrea saw that Glenn, Herschel and T-Dog were several yards away, huddled around the spit. The men were already working to cut meat away from what remained of the carcass.

Breakfast of champions…

All things considered, Andrea supposed that some cold venison wouldn't be the worst way to start her day. She twisted, facing Carol, and reached out to place a hand on her friend's shoulder. But before she could shake her, Andrea noticed that Daryl was sleeping, just a few feet away from them. The hunter was on his back, on arm draped across his face, one knee bent. A sheet was tangled around his other leg and he seemed perfectly comfortable. Andrea was tempted to laugh.

Sleeping on the ground for days at a time…this is probably par for the course as far as he's concerned.

Her eyes roamed his body; she saw his foot twitch, and he mumbled something unintelligible, but otherwise, he remained undisturbed by the goings-on around him. She was amused by the fact that he'd chosen to stay close to the rest of the group.

Wonder what caused that…

But Andrea already had a pretty good idea. Deciding that it was high time her companions greeted the day, and each other, she gently shook Carol's shoulder. "Hey," she whispered, urging her friend to wake up. "Carol..get up; it's morning."

Groaning, and weakly resisting the force that shook her, Carol tried to retreat into the warmth and safety of the sleeping bag. But Andrea wouldn't let up. After a few minutes, Carol grudgingly opened her eyes. "Yes?" she asked, aggravated.

"Good morning." said Andrea, a smirk on her face.

"Is it?" Carol asked, as she sat up and ran her hands over her face.

Andrea chuckled. "It could be, but I guess that depends on your attitude."

Carol swatted at her friend.

"Figured I let you sleep in long enough; we should get up, see if we can help pack." said Andrea, as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned.

"Fun." said Carol, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Okay," Andrea acknowledged, as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to smooth it. "Maybe packing doesn't interest you…but that might." she gestured to the hunter who still lay sleeping in the grass.

Carol followed her friends gaze and blushed. "That's none of my concern."

"Really?" Andrea asked. "Then why is he here?"

Carol brought one hand up to massage her temple. "Safety in numbers?" she said softly, hoping the blush would leave her cheeks.

Andrea snorted. "Sure." She gave Carol's leg a pat and then forced herself to stand. "Well, I'm going to see what else needs to be done, as far as packing is concerned. How about you see if you can get him up?" Andrea nodded in the hunter's direction.

Carol felt herself blush harder. Before she could protest, she saw Andrea walk over to Daryl and nudge him with the toe of her boot. "Daryl!" The blonde woman yelled, giving him another soft nudge in the ribs. "Get up; we could use some help." She stared down at him, and watched as he started to shift on the ground. Satisfied, Andrea turned on her heel, leaving her companions to their business.

Daryl was muttering curses under his breath as he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. His back ached, but no more than usual. Blinking, he stared up at the tree branches overhead, and the patches of blue sky that were hiding between the leaves. The sun glared at him, as if it were angry that he'd slept this long. Growling, he forced himself to sit up, his knees bending. The second he moved, Daryl realized that something was wrong…. Before he could think too hard about it, he heard someone clear their throat. He looked over his shoulder to see Carol sitting up in her sleeping bag.

"Morning." She said, hoping that the blush had left her cheeks. She was leaning back against the rough bark of her tree, thinking the discomfort would distract her.

Daryl grunted a response and tried to focus. It took him a moment to remember that he'd made his way to the camp last night. He glanced down at the white sheet that was partially wrapped around one of his legs, and then it came back to him. She'd given him the blanket…wanting him to be warm… The thoughts weren't helping. Needing his own distraction, Daryl decided to speak. "You wanna tell me whose sorry ass was kickin' me a minute ago?" His voice was rasping, thick with sleep.

Carol couldn't help but chuckle. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them with forced interest. "That would be Andrea. And I would hardly say she was kicking you…a light nudge maybe."

Daryl snorted. "Don't need no one kickin' me in the damn ribs first thing in the mornin'."

Carol narrowed her eyes and smirked at him. He had his back to her, but she continued to stare. "Sounds to me like you're bitching. It's a little early for that, don't you think?" she asked.

The hunter looked over his shoulder again. The way she was staring at him made his gut twist, and felt himself get just a little bit less comfortable.

Godammitt…

He wanted to be pissed at her; she was pushing him, on purpose. But he knew she was right; he couldn't deny the wisdom of his own words. He idly wondered what made her think that she could goad him like this…work her way under his skin so easily. But he supposed he had no way to retaliate…at least not right then. He needed a moment, or maybe ten…just some separation…some air. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he looked away from her and focused on the river. The water seemed so far away…But Daryl needed to get there. He needed to wake up, splash some cold water on his face, run it through his hair, rinse his mouth out, and get to work helping the others. But the prospect of getting all the way down there…in his current state, was worrying him. He knew that if he stood, and exhibited even the slightest bit of discomfort with his ankle, Carol would want to help…and he couldn't let her. Not now. He wasn't sure if it was his proximity to her, while he slept, or some lingering effect of the time they'd spent together at the far end of the clearing the night before…or even the result of his wandering subconscious mind, but he'd woken up with a problem that he would rather not have Carol notice. This was something she couldn't help him with…well, that wasn't entirely true, but Daryl didn't foresee that kind of…assistance, in his immediate future. Hating himself for even thinking such a thing, the hunter groaned and rubbed his eyes again. "Guess you're right," he growled. "I'm just bitchin'."

Carol chuckled. "It's fine; I won't tell anyone you were whining."

The sound of her laughing was making his problem worse and he wanted nothing more than to run from her.

Dumbass…thinkin' it was a good idea to sleep here…you're better off alone. You're gonna make a damn fool of yourself in front of that woman.

Tugging at his hair, Daryl sighed. "Think I'm gonna head down to the water." He braced himself for her response.

"Need help getting down there?" she asked.

Daryl tried not to answer too quickly. "Naw, I'll be alright. Ankle ain't so bad today." He lied.

Carol was glad he wasn't facing her; she didn't want him to see the disappointment on her face. "Okay; guess I'll go see what Rick needs done." She braced her hands on her thighs and stood up.

"I'll be along in a while," Daryl called after her. He could hear her walking away.

"Sounds good." she yelled over her shoulder.

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and began contemplating the task in front of him; his blue eyes trained on the river.

Herschel was helping his daughters pack their belongings into the trunk of the Buick. They tried to keep him from lifting anything with his bad arm, but the farmer wasn't one to sit still. The small family was still processing Patricia's death, and Herschel felt that keeping busy was the best medicine. So he huffed, trying to mask his pain, and worked on folding sheets, tucking them away for later use. He turned when he heard a familiar voice.

"Anything I can do to help?" Carol asked.

Herschel gave her a weak smile. "I think we can manage. Rick wants to head out within the hour."

Carol nodded and moved closer, finally taking the farmer's hand in hers. Their eyes met, and she did her best to let him know she was sorry…for what happened to Patricia. She gave his hand a squeeze and spoke softly. "If you need anything, you or your girls…just ask." With that, she released him and turned away. As he watched her go, Herschel wondered how it was possible for someone to endure the things that Carol had, and still manage to worry about everyone else. He hoped that someone was looking after her; she deserved that much.

T-Dog groaned in appreciation as he took a big bite of the venison. "Maybe I'm just that hungry, but I swear this shit is better than it was last night."

Glenn nodded as he chewed. "I'm not gonna complain…but I sure miss pancakes."

T-Dog chuckled.

Shane shook his head. "Think at this point, I'd do just about anythin' for a damn cup of coffee."

All three men sighed as they tried to remember the last time they'd had coffee.

"Mind If I join you for breakfast?" Carol asked, making them turn and look at her.

T-Dog smiled. "Mornin'; come get you some."

She smiled back, greeting Glenn and Shane as she moved towards the spit. Normally, Carol might've been concerned about the fact that she just woke up, her hair was mussed…her clothes were wrinkled, and still bore stains from the day before…her skin was covered in layers of dried sweat, and she probably had dirt on her face…the old Carol probably would've been embarrassed by her ragged appearance, and certainly wouldn't have been brave enough to stand in front of these men and eat a hunk of greasy meat with her hands, like some sort of savage. But now, after everything they'd been through as a group, Carol was finding that she wasn't afraid of their judgments…not that they were the type of people to judge her. But as she took the meat that T-Dog offered and brought it to her lips, Carol realized that the only opinion that mattered was Daryl's, and somehow, she knew he would approve of her appearance, as bedraggled as she was. Hungry, and unashamed, she tore into her breakfast, feeling the grease run down her chin.

T-Dog clapped her lightly on the back, smiling. "Good to see you still got a healthy appetite."

Carol was trying not to laugh with her mouth full, so she opted for a nod and rubbed her chin against her shoulder. The four survivors continued with their meals, the sound of their chewing filling the small space. Glenn, Shane and T-Dog exchanged bits of conversation between mouthfuls, but Carol remained silent, focusing on her food. As far as she was concerned, this might be the last decent meal she would eat for some time, and she planned to savor it. With each bite, she thought about Daryl…what it must've been like for him to stalk the deer…the work he had to put into it…the time he took to skin and prepare it, even though his ankle was bruised and swollen. The fact that Daryl had been the one to provide the food, seemed to make it taste that much better. Carol found herself smiling a little as she chewed. She remembered watching him the night before…how he'd licked the grease from his fingers…how he'd torn at his food like an animal. The memory was making a flush creep up Carol's neck, but she tried to ignore it and kept eating. This was his contribution to the group, and she was doing her best to pace herself, to appreciate the meal he'd given them. By the time she'd finished, Carol knew that her mouth was covered in grease, as were her hands. She quickly sucked at her fingers and wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, still feeling like a complete mess.

T-Dog shook his head an chuckled beside her.

"What?" she asked, smirking at him.

"Nothin'. Just think maybe you been spendin' too much time with Daryl…looks like his table manners are rubbin' off on you." T-Dog nudged her with his elbow.

Carol felt heat spread through her, and she brought one hand up, trying to hide the smile on her lips.

Glenn could see the color forming on her cheeks and briefly wondered if T-Dog had been right about her and Daryl….and the nature of their relationship.

T-Dog thought he might be teasing her too much, so he smiled softly at her. "Carol; I'm just playin'. You fine. Ain't like we got silverware 'n napkins."

Trying to keep what was left of her dignity, Carol gave T-Dog a pat on the shoulder and started to walk away.

The men exchanged nervous glances as they watched her leave, each worried that she might be offended. "Carol!" T-Dog called out, after she'd only take a few steps.

She paused, looking back at him.

"You know I'm just teasin' right?" He asked.

Carol considered a response, but figured actions spoke louder than words. If T-Dog wanted to poke fun, and make her uncomfortable, she would play along. Instead of answering him, Carol brought a finger to her lips and sucked the grease from it, winking at him when she was done. Without waiting for any comments, Carol turned away and left them to their breakfast. Her courage was just about spent, and she had to keep herself from running to the river.

T-Dog, Glenn and Shane were having trouble processing what they'd just witnessed. T-Dog blew out a long whistle and shook his head.

Glenn's eyes were on the ground and he cleared his throat before speaking. "Maybe don't get on Carol's case anymore…at least not where Daryl is concerned."

"Yeah…" T-Dog sighed. "Guess you right." He blinked as he tried to wrap his mind around what Carol had done.

Daryl snorted as he felt the cold water running down his face, the droplets clinging to his scruff. He hoped that washing up would help clear his head. Shaking his hair, he sent spray flying in all directions, like a wet dog fresh out of the tub. He didn't know what the day had in store for them, but he knew he needed to focus if he planned on being of any use. So he braced himself and bent low over the river, splashing his face again. The cold water helped to wake him up, and it had all but cured his…problem. He could feel the stiffness and the pain subsiding. "Jesus…" he breathed, wiping the water from his eyes. Realizing that he didn't have a towel, Daryl gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled, bringing the dingy fabric to his face and dabbing at the wet skin. Lost in his morning rituals, Daryl didn't notice his audience.

Carol felt the mud squishing beneath her sneakers as she worked her way down the bank. She glanced to her left and saw Lori and Carl at one end of the river, doing their best to wash up before hitting the road. To her right, was something far more interesting. Carol wasn't sure what had gotten into her when she winked at T-Dog, but whatever it was, it had a hold of her now. The old Carol might've turned around, avoiding any further interaction with the hunter who's voice gave her chills. But this day, in this moment, Carol couldn't think of any reason to turn around. She saw something she wanted and decided to get closer.

Carol deliberately slowed her pace as she reached the water's edge. The mud muffled the sound of her footsteps. She watched, fascinated, as Daryl used the hem of his shirt to dry his face. With the fabric lifted, Carol could see his flat stomach. Her eyes followed the thin line of dark hair below his navel, but she had enough sense to stop herself before her eyes roamed any lower. With her hazy mind wandering, Carol wanted nothing more than to follow that dark trail with her fingertips…she wanted to feel his skin…all of him. But she was willing to settle for this unobstructed view of his stomach. She smirked to herself when she noticed the freckle on his hip. Carol couldn't fathom why on earth she found that little detail so appealing, but she did. He was still dabbing at his eyes, so she took the opportunity to glance at his belly button. That was cute too. She knew she was being ridiculous; of that, Carol was completely aware, but it didn't matter. The whole group was living on borrowed time, as far as Carol was concerned, and she wasn't going to miss the chance to admire the flesh she rarely saw. As she began to feel like she was invading his privacy, Carol cleared her throat, nearly making him jump.

Daryl released his shirt and stared at her, his brows knitting together as he tried to puzzle out how long she'd been there.

"Cleaning up?" she asked, smirking at him.

He snorted, frustrated by her presence. "The hell does it look like?" He growled, running his broad hands through his mess of hair.

Carol folded her arms across her chest and studied him. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" she asked.

He bent over the water again, dipping his hands. "Wrong side of the clearin's more like it…" he was muttering under his breath.

Carol blinked, incredulous.

Is he serious?

She was staring at him, her eyes narrowed with skepticism. "And who's choice was that?" she asked. "As I recall…no one made you stay with us." She turned, gesturing back towards their camp.

Daryl withdrew his hands, shaking the excess water off before running them through his hair again. He glared at her, but didn't have an argument. She was right; it had been his choice to spend the night in camp, instead of alone beneath his tree…but that didn't mean he had to play nice with everyone.

Carol shook her head, chuckling. He was trying so hard to scare her, but with damp hair sticking up in every direction, and drops of water still clinging to his scruff, he just wasn't all that intimidating.

"The hell's so funny?" he asked, his hands on his hips.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, sighing. "Nothing."

"Why's your ass down here anyway…ain't ya supposed to be up there helpin'?" he pointed up the bank, to the vehicles.

Carol stood her ground. "I tried, but I think we slept in too late; seems like they've got a handle on things. Got myself some breakfast though."

For the first time, Daryl noticed the stains around her mouth, and on her hands. For whatever reason, the thought of her enjoying the food he'd brought to camp was intriguing. "How was it?" he asked, as he tried to dry his hands on his jeans.

Carol looked away, laughing lightly. When her eyes met his again, she was anxiously fidgeting with her cross. "It was good."

Daryl felt himself grow warm. He knew that he shouldn't be engaging her in this sort of conversation, but it was too late; he couldn't stop himself. After all the work he'd done trying to calm down, to rid his head of distracting thoughts, he was stepping right back into the same snare. He felt like a damn child that's just been scrubbed raw in the bath…and then goes looking for a mud puddle. "Better than last night?" he asked.

Carol tried to maintain her composure…but when his eyes were on her, it was all she could do to stay standing. She found herself remembering the way it felt to trace the scar on his chest the night before…how his fingers had slid slowly across her lower belly, following the line that marked her c-section. She thought about the way she'd massaged his hips, and how his strong hands had kneaded the flesh just above her tailbone. As the images flooded her mind, Carol had to remind herself to breathe. She'd come this far, and she wasn't about to back down. If he wanted to play, then they would play. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head slowly. When she looked back up at him, she was gnawing her bottom lip. "It was pretty great last night…but," she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, "Guess I'd have to say it was just as good today. No complaints." She bit her lip harder, afraid of what else she might say.

It was Daryl's turn to look away as he tried to process what she'd said. As usual, he couldn't be sure of what she meant…or what he meant for that matter. But he sensed that they weren't talking about the meat…at least he didn't think so…unless they were?

Shit…

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking to himself that it was too damn early to be this confused. He took a deep breath and turned back to face her, one hand on his hip, while the other scratched at his scalp. "No complaints huh?" He asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Carol chuckled softly, tugging harder at the cross, the chain digging into her neck. She knew that her blush had to be obvious on her face, but she didn't care. He might as well know what he did to her, because she couldn't hide it. "None," she said, smiling.

The hunter nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "That right?" he asked. He could see the flush spreading across her cheeks, and he liked it.

Suddenly remembering how disgusting she must look, Carol jabbed a finger into his chest, "You're distracting me." She smirked at him.

Daryl glanced down at the slender finger that was touching him…she shouldn't be touching him. He knew that much. With a huff, he pushed her hand away. "How's tha?" he asked, his drawl growing more pronounced. The wet hair was falling in his eyes.

Carol didn't look at him, she just turned away and knelt beside the water. "I came down here for the same reason you did…to get washed up." She took a deep breath and splashed her face with the cold water.

Daryl stood watching as she snorted and blinked. He was tempted to laugh, but he kept himself in check.

The chilled water was bracing and Carol ran her hands over her face, trying to wash away grease, sweat and dirt. She splashed herself a few more times, and felt like she was finally awake. She mimicked Daryl's actions, running her fingers through her hair in a feeble attempt to feel clean. The water felt nice, and Carol stood up, hoping that her head was finally on straight and that she could stop making a fool of herself. But out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Daryl was still there, watching her. His presence was clouding her judgment all over again, and she knew that she wasn't done playing. Feeling warmth course through her body, Carol decided to push the hunter just a bit further. Her face was still dripping wet, and she decided that there was only one logical way to dry it. At once nervous and excited, Carol reached for the hem of her shirt. Trying not to shake or giggle, she gnawed the corner of her lip and tugged her shirt up by the hem.

Daryl was staring at her, somewhat confused. He brought his thumb to his mouth and chewed the nail, out of habit. He didn't know why he was watching her; he'd all but finished washing up…

Ya got no reason to be here…your ass should be back at camp, helpin'…

But he couldn't make himself leave. His keen eyes were focused on her hands as she lifted the hem of her shirt. He grew tense when he saw the creamy, pale skin of her stomach. It looked so smooth…he tried to remember the way it felt when he traced her scar the night before.

Carol knew it was wrong…It had to be, but she couldn't stop. Maybe indecent was a better word, but it didn't matter. Something had a hold on her, and she didn't have the strength to resist. She donned a mask of cool calm and brought the fabric to her face, dabbing at the moisture. Doing her best to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her body, Carol continued to dry off, using the shirt hem to hide her smile.

Daryl's mouth was quickly growing dry. His thumb nail was still caught between his teeth but he wasn't chewing anymore. He caught a glimpse of the bottom of her bra as she pulled her shirt up to her face.

Shit's wrong….ya need to leave….

But his feet were rooted to the spot and his mind was wandering. Realizing that his situation would get drastically worse if he didn't distract himself, Daryl snorted and let his hand fall away from his mouth. "Ain't ya worried someone's gonna see ya?" He asked, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt.

Carol slowly lowered her shirt and ran a hand through her hair as she stared at him, her blue eyes thoughtful. "I'm sorry…" she said, a smirk forming on her mouth as she noticed the color in his cheeks. "Was I making you uncomfortable?" She folded her arms across her chest and slowly started walking towards him.

Completely out of his depth, the hunter cleared his throat and took a hesitant step back, retreating. His hands slid into his back pockets and his heart was beating just a little faster as he watched her get closer.

Undaunted, Carol kept moving. "It's not like we have towels…." she said, her eyes narrowing, the smirk still on her lips.

Daryl opened his mouth to speak but it was too late, she was standing in front of him, and he was all out of words. His brain could barely register what was happening.

"I'm wet…" she said, her eyes locked on his face.

The hunter swallowed hard.

She really just say that?

Daryl wasn't sure of anything anymore.

But she didn't give him time to over think it. "I just need to dry off." said Carol. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she clutched his already damp shirt hem, and pulled the fabric up to her face.

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her knuckles brush his stomach. But he couldn't make himself act…he didn't know what to say or do to stop her. He could only watch, horrified and fascinated, as she rubbed the fabric on her face, wiping the water off.

Carol had been filled with such confidence….she didn't know where the hell it came from, but it was the only thing driving her actions…and it seemed to vanish the moment she brought his shirt up to her face. It smelled like him, and she pulled the scent deep into her lungs, wanting as much of it as she could get. Confidence was quickly replaced with a hunger that made her weak. She stood in front of him, drying off…or pretending to, and silently struggled with the ache between her legs.

Daryl stood stock still; he was afraid to move…or speak. For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like to have her soft hands on his stomach…fingers splayed, her palms pressed to his skin, slipping lower until…

Christ…ya stop this shit…stop it now.

But Carol beat him to it. She slowly, and calmly, lowered his shirt…even taking a second to try and smooth the now wrinkled fabric. She was careful, her hands barely brushing his stomach, but the contact still made him growl under his breath. The sound was just loud enough for Carol to hear and she met his gaze, her eyes searching his as she tried to determine the meaning behind the growl. Sensing that she'd probably pushed him too far already, Carol gave him a soft smile and then turned to leave. After she'd taken a few steps, she glanced over her shoulder. "Thanks for the help…" Her eyes going to the hem of his shirt for a moment. Before he could even attempt to form an answer, she was gone. He watched her as she hurried up the bank and disappeared. Alone with thoughts that he'd rather not have, Daryl bowed his head, released a heavy sigh, and kicked at the mud.

As she made her way back to camp, Carol could barely feel the ground under her feet…or the cold water that was quickly drying in her hair. All that mattered, was the pounding of her heart, and the question echoing in her head…

What were you thinking?!

She almost winced as she replayed her and Daryl's conversation in her head.

"I'm wet…" Really? What on earth could possibly lead you to believe that that was appropriate? In any regard?

Her courage was clearly spent and she brought one clammy hand up to cup her forehead as she walked. Carol had never spoken to a man like that…not to Ed, not even to boys she knew in high school. She'd never had the audacity to make such suggestive comments. Ed didn't tolerate that kind of behavior, and Carol would've earned a swollen lip if he ever heard her talking like that…even if she was only joking. Given her past, it seemed logical that Carol would withdraw into herself over time, stifling her thoughts, needs…feelings. No good had ever come from speaking her mind. She'd grown accustomed to the mousy persona she'd been forced to adopt with Ed. The old Carol never would have had the courage to flirt…it that's even what this was.

Flirting…

It was a foreign concept for Carol, and she figured the same was true for Daryl. But it didn't even seem like a conscious choice to Carol…it was as if her body was acting on its own. She seemed to be all but powerless against the forces of attraction that drew her to him.

I can't help how he makes me feel…

She frowned as she hurried up the bank.

Maybe not, but you can try not to make a complete ass of yourself when he's around…

When she was just a few yards from the camp site, Andrea came jogging towards her. "Hey," the blonde woman called out.

"Hey," Carol answered, trying to push all thoughts of Daryl from her mind.

"Guess Rick and the others are pretty anxious to head out; the truck and the Buick are just about packed." said Andrea.

"That's good." Carol hugged herself as she glanced around the clearing.

"You nervous?" Andrea asked.

"Hm. About what?"

"Going back out there." Andrea glanced over her shoulder and gestured to the gap in the woodline; the place that led to the small dirt road.

Carol followed her friend's gaze. "A little, but I'm ready to leave. It's not like we could've stayed here…no tents…no real defenses; all we had was the water on one side." She paused to take a deep, slow breath. "I think we need to move on…put this place behind us." She turned her head and eyed the mound of dirt beneath the tree nearby, Patricia's final resting place.

Andrea reached out to gently squeeze her friend's shoulder. Together, in solemn silence, the two women began walking towards the vehicles. "We'll find a place," Andrea said softly.

Carol sighed. "I'd sure like to think so."

A subtle smile was creeping onto Andrea's face. "Can you imagine what it would be like to sleep in a bed again? A real bed?"

Carol wanted to groan; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a bed. "That would be nice." she admitted.

"Not a sleeping bag, a sheet on the ground…and not that flimsy mattress on the floor of the RV…I'm talking about a real bed." said Andrea.

Carol chuckled and shook her head. "I don't even remember what that feels like."

"If we're lucky," Andrea continued. "We find a house; I don't know that we'll find anything as big as Herschel's place, but we might. There's a lot of farm land out here…which means wells…which means…."

This time, Carol couldn't stop the groan. "Showers…" she said.

"Showers." Andrea echoed. "Clean water…indoors….no freezing rivers..no one watching you…."

"Stop it," said Carol. "You're just getting my hopes up."

"It could happen…" said Andrea. "By tonight….we could, in theory, be sleeping under a roof, behind locked doors…you could shower, actually feel clean, and fall into a real bed afterwards."

"Sounds too good to be true." Carol said wistfully.

"You never know," said Andrea. "Think we've had our share of shit luck; we've gotta be due for a break here soon."

Carol chuckled softly, her footsteps slowing as they reached the pick-up. Rick was in the truck-bed, doing his best to arrange the contents and make room for passengers.

"Wanna start rounding people up?" Andrea asked.

Rick stood, walking to the end of the tail-gate and hopping down. He eyed the two women and was secretly grateful for their loyalty. After his confession the night before, the deputy was worried that certain members of his group might turn away from him. They had every right, as far as Rick was concerned. But here they were, standing in front of him, offering help. "Think we're good here," he said, glancing over at the Buick. "Sooner we leave, the better. If we find a place, I'm guessin' we'll have to clear it."

A small crease formed in Carol's brow. "It's pretty remote out here. You don't think we'll find a place that's been abandoned?"

Rick rubbed the back of his neck and signed. "I don't think we're that lucky."

"After everything we've been through…after the herd…" Andrea said. "I think we can handle clearing one building."

Rick allowed himself to smile softly. "We've got a strong group; we'll make do." The deputy scanned the clearing, his eyes settling on the men that were gathered near the spit. "If you two wouldn't mind gettin' everyone up here…we can go ahead and hit the road."

The women nodded and turned to head towards the spit. In the Distance, Rick could see Daryl walking up the river bank. The man seemed to be headed towards the small group that was gathered near the deer's carcass. With time being of the essence, the deputy decided that he needed to keep distractions to a minimum. "Hey Carol," he called out before the women had gone too far.

She stopped, turning around to face him. "Yes?"

Rick licked his dry lips before answering. "You mind goin' down there…" he gestured to the opposite end of the clearing, where Lori and Carl were still lingering near the water's edge. "Let 'em know we're ready to go."

Carol paused for a moment, but then gave him a nod. "Sure. Back soon," she said before smiling and turning to leave.

As Carol headed in the opposite direction, Rick and Andrea exchanged glances. The blonde woman smirked and folded her arms across her chest. "Smart man," she said, eyeing the deputy.

Rick's hands were on his hips as he smiled softly at her. "Don't know what you're gettin' at. Go on," he nodded in the direction of the spit.

Andrea chuckled to herself as she hurried towards the men.

About fifteen minutes passed before everyone was seated, and relatively comfortable, in the vehicles. From the truck-bed, Daryl, Carol, Andrea, T-Dog, Carl and Shane watched as the Greene family stood near Patricia's grave.

Glenn was waiting in the driver's seat of the Buick, wanting to give the small family a moment to mourn their friend and say goodbye. He eased back in his chair and let his eyes close. He knew that the group's chances of ever returning to this place were slim to none, and he hoped that the Greene's would get some closure by leaving Patricia's resting place behind them. As the family held hands and stood silently near the grave, Glenn thought back to all the people his group had lost…he wondered if he would ever have the chance to visit their graves again…to pay respect. He supposed it was a silly thing to worry about…

The dead are gone…There's nothing I can do for them now.

He eased his eyes open and squinted against the invading morning light.

We need to focus on the living…keeping them safe…keeping the group together.

He knew the words were true, but he couldn't help but to feel guilty about the people they'd left behind. Jim, Jackie, Amy, Sophia… He understood the need for ceremony…for grave rites…however subtle. It was just what people did.

People want to feel normal…they want to feel like they can hold onto the lives they lived before.

And if that meant kneeling in the dirt, beside a freshly dug grave…if it meant holding hands, leaving wild flowers at the base of a lonely tree, and bowing heads in prayer, then Glenn couldn't fault them that. He'd never been a man of faith, but he understood why people prayed.

They want to believe that someone's listening…that someone cares.

Wishing there was more he could do or say to comfort the grieving family…the frightened woman that he cared so deeply for, Glenn released a heavy sigh and waited patiently in the driver's seat.

In the truck-bed, none of the passengers knew what to say. T-Dog had his arms draped across raised knees; he let his head fall forward and tried to block out the images surfacing in his mind…he was trying to forget the sound the knife made when he sunk it into Patricia's skull.

Shane had his rifle resting in his lap; he pulled a rag from one of the duffel bags and began to wipe the barrel clean, his eyes narrowed, focused on his work. He didn't want to watch the sad spectacle.

Carl was squeezed between Andrea and Carol. The boy's sad eyes were wide beneath the brim of the Stetson. His parted lips seemed to quiver, just slightly as he watched Beth kneel. The girl was crying as she bowed her head until it was touching the soft earth. Her body was trembling, and her pale hand was splayed over the dark soil, as she clung to the memory of her friend.

Carol and Andrea were both worried about how the scene was affecting the boy. But this was the world he lived in. Death surrounded them…always. The raw grief he was witnessing… it was significant; it was human. And knowing that they hadn't lost their humanity was a small comfort to Carol.

He needs to see it.

Just as the thought entered her head, she heard Carl sniff. He reached up quickly, wiping the moisture away from his cheek. Yearning to comfort him, Carol bowed her head and placed a soft kiss on the boy's shoulder. He looked up at her, with red eyes that seemed to reflect his thanks.

"We're gonna be okay," Carol whispered.

"She's right," said Andrea as she gave Carl's leg a gentle pat.

The boy responded with a shaky nod. He sniffed again before bowing his head.

Carol and Andrea exchanged glances, each grateful for the other. Carol could feel it then, as she watched the Greene's praying near the grave, and as she looked around at her fellow passengers. She was suddenly, painfully aware of how much they all meant to her. They were her family. The thought of losing any of them was making her chest tighten. She wanted to stay with them, surrounded by these brave, strong, compassionate, incredible people for as long as she possibly could. It had been so long since Carol felt safe…loved. She finally felt like she'd found a home, and she would do anything to stay with her group…to keep them safe. Lost in her thoughts, Carol was struggling to control the emotions that were rising like a wave inside her. Before churning thoughts could overtake her, Carol felt someone nudge her shoulder. She glanced to her left and saw that Daryl was watching her.

She wasn't sure how they ended up next to each other. There always seemed to be so much agonizing indecision over where to sit whenever they traveled. Maybe they were both tired of it….or maybe they were finally accepting the fact that they enjoyed each other's company. They were drawn to one another, time and again…why shouldn't they just give in and sit shoulder to shoulder?

Andrea, Carl, Carol and Daryl sat, relatively snug, with their heads resting against the cool glass of the rear windshield. As she stared into the face of the man she loved, Carol knew that nothing…no amount of prayer, kind words, or sympathetic smiles would ever bring her as much comfort as having Daryl beside her. Their shoulders touching… She felt the familiar warmth of his skin and took in his scent that was all around her.

Home.

Carol wondered if he had any idea how much he meant to her. The dreamy look on her face must have given her away, because a moment later, there was a faint blush on Daryl's cheeks and he gave her another nudge with his shoulder. "Ya alright?" he asked softly.

"I'll be okay," she answered, smiling sadly.

Daryl gave her a stiff nod and then tore his eyes from hers. He did his best to look past the Greene family on focus on the river. He tried not to think about the devastation on Carol's face as she lay curled and crying beneath Patricia's corpse. It had taken every ounce of Daryl's strength and self control to make it through that night…and he wasn't sure how much more tragedy he could endure. He could handle death…loss, but watching the way it affected her…seeing her in pain…it took a heavy toll on him. He'd never been good at comforting anyone, but he wanted to be able to help her…he wanted to be strong enough for her to lean on. So Daryl Dixon kept his fears to himself. He didn't break and he didn't cry. Instead, he sat in silence, secretly glad to have her beside him. He kept his head up, and his cold, blue eyes focused on the river. He watched the water lapping at the bank…the steady flow of clear liquid rushing past. In an instant, the hunter's breath seemed to catch. His heart rate sped up and his body tensed…He was starting to remember…

Rick was growing anxious as his fingers curled tightly around the worn leather of the steering wheel. His green eyes flicked from the windshield to the fuel gauge and his brows knit together as he studied the rapidly dipping needle. They'd been driving for just under an hour and the truck had less than a quarter tank of gas left. So far, the houses they'd seen were either too small, burned out, or too damaged to provide any meaningful shelter. Miles of dirt road continued to disappear under the truck and Rick wondered if their decision to leave the clearing had been a mistake.

There was nothing for us there…

He reminded himself that the group was exposed there…they needed shelter…a place they could fortify. With his mind racing, Rick unknowingly increased his pressure on the gas pedal. The pick-up gathered speed, sending up small dust clouds, and the deputy's knuckles were beginning to turn white as he gripped the wheel harder.

While the truck continued to pick up speed, Lori's eyes were trained on something in the distance. She couldn't quite make it out, but when she squinted, she thought she saw a small mailbox on the side of the road, the red marker standing out from the surrounding greenery. As they sped forward, Lori clearly saw the mailbox with a faded house number printed on the side. Realizing that her husband hadn't noticed, Lori's hand shot out to grip Rick's shoulder. "Stop!" she urged.

Startled, Rick slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. "Jesus!" He huffed as the tires screeched and truck lurched before coming to a stop. He winced when he heard several thuds; the sound of the truck-bed's passengers being thoroughly jostled. He swallowed hard and glanced at his wife. "What'd ya see?" he sat back, trying to catch his breath. A bit shaken, Lori lifted a slender arm and pointed towards the driver's side window. Rick followed his wife's gaze and saw the mailbox. As the deputy stared harder, he noticed a thin gap in the trees and what looked to be the start of a long, rambling, dirt drive.

"This could be what we're looking for," Lori breathed. "A house…looks like the drive goes a ways back…didn't you say we should find something secluded?"

Rick considered his wife's words. Seclusion was good; but what if the house was already occupied? His eyes went back to the fuel gauge. He knew the group was running out of gas as well as options. "Could be worth a look," said the deputy.

In the truck bed, Andrea, Carl, Carol and Daryl sat hissing and rubbing the backs of their aching heads that had been knocked against the glass when the truck came to a sudden stop. "Christ…" the hunter snarled; he wanted to unleash all of the four-letter words that were burning on his tongue, but with Carol and Carl beside him, he made a conscious effort to control his temper. So he settled for angrily rubbing his scalp and growling under his breath.

After making sure that Carl was alright, Carol turned to Daryl, her hand going to brush some of the hair out of his eyes. "You okay?" she asked.

Daryl flinched slightly when her hand came towards him. "Fine," he bit out, not wanting to look at her.

Unprepared for the hostility, and the way she saw him visibly tense at the contact, Carol withdrew her hand as if she'd been stung. Her eyes narrowed and a crease formed in her brow as she studied the man beside her. She didn't understand… "Daryl?" she said, but he turned away.

"Said I'm fine," he snapped.

The rest of the passengers were too busy rubbing their aching limbs to notice the exchange between Daryl and Carol. The rejection, which was all that Carol could think to call it, was difficult to accept. Wondering what she could've possibly done to upset him, she let her hands rest in her lap and waited for someone to explain why they'd stopped.

A moment later, Rick pushed his door open and hopped down from the cab, his boots kicking up dust. Licking his dry lips, the deputy made his way to the truck bed.

"Guessin' you had good reason for stoppin?" T-Dog asked as their leader approached.

"Sorry 'bout that," said Rick. "Lori saw somethin'…" He glanced over his shoulder at the mailbox.

The others followed his gaze. Andrea twisted her body, leaning over the edge of the truck bed to get a better look. "You wanting to check it out?" she asked.

"We're low on fuel," said Rick. "I think this could be what we've been lookin' for." He waited for opposition, but it didn't come. He nodded, taking their silence to mean that they agreed. "While we're headin' up the drive, I want everyone to keep their heads down; do your best to stay outta sight. We don't know what's up there." He pointed to the gap in the trees.

Shane hefted the rifle in his hands. "Whatever we find…we'll deal with it."

Rick took a step forward and gripped his partner's shoulder. "I know we will, but I'm askin' you to lay low for now. Think you can do that?"

Shane answered with a stiff nod.

"Alright," said Rick. "Get down, and stay quiet. I'm gonna let Glenn 'n them know what we're doing." With that, the deputy left the passenger's to their task.

Uneasy, the survivors began doing their best to keep themselves out of sight. Andrea, Carl, Carol and Daryl slowly slid down until their backs were on the floor of the truck bed. Shane got onto his belly, While T-Dog lay curled on his side. Even though there wasn't much breathing room, Carol managed to work her hand down to her waistband, her fingers instinctively reaching for the knife that was clipped there. The cold handle felt reassuring in her sweaty palm and she gripped it tightly, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. She lay there, the rusted metal of the truck bed pressing against her spine. Her heart beat was steadily increasing, and she could hear the hushed breathing of the others all around her. Trying to remain calm, she stared up into the shocking blue of the mid-morning sky. With the knife clutched firmly in her clammy palm, Carol let both hands rest over her stomach. Her lips were barely parted, and she could feel her chest rise and fall with each anxious breath. She continued to gaze into the open sky with wide eyes and couldn't help but feel like she was lying in a casket. Daryl was still beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. From the corner of her eye she could see that he'd reached for his bow and the weapon was resting on his stomach..his fingers twitching a little where he gripped the stock. Realizing that he couldn't get away from her, Carol decided to question him. "Did I do something to upset you?" she asked under her breath, her eyes still on the sky overhead.

Daryl stiffened. "Ya ain't done nothin'," he hissed.

Carol's brows were knitting together. "You seem angry…I just thought.." but her whispers were cut off.

"Thought Rick said be quiet," Daryl huffed.

Hurt, angry, Carol released a heavy sigh and watched a cloud move slowly across the endless expanse of blue. Her fingers fidgeted with the knife and she gnawed her lip to keep herself from coming unglued. It was then that Carol decided she wasn't afraid of anything that might be waiting for them in the house. Nothing could wound her more than his rejection. She knew that it was weak…she didn't want to be the kind of woman who could be torn down with a few harsh words, but this was the person she cared for most in the world…and he was flinging her concern back in her face. The anger was like a sharp sting, alcohol on a fresh cut. But Carol knew there were more important things at hand. She needed to clear her head and focus, which was easier said than done when the man she was attracted to was laying beside her.

Daryl didn't know what he was doing any more. He wasn't mad at her, he was angry with himself…ashamed. But she was closest, so he flung his rage at her…as he'd done too many times already. He tried to ignore the heavy silence that had settled around them, and the feeling of her shoulder touching his.

I can't fuckin' do this….

There was a dull pounding in his skull and the hunter closed his eyes, trying to block everything out.

Moments later, Daryl heard Rick's footsteps approaching. The deputy gripped the edge of the truck-bed; "Stay down, until I give the word." The passenger's were silent as Rick walked away. The driver's side door squeaked on its hinges and then slammed shut. They heard the engine growl, and the truck bed rumbled as the vehicle came to life beneath them. When the sky began to move overhead, the passenger's braced themselves. The truck turned, starting down the long, narrow path that would lead to the night's shelter.

Tension's were high, and nobody spoke. As she watched branches pass above her, Carol continued to remind herself that the group needed her; she needed to keep them safe. She couldn't crumble just because she'd let Daryl's words get under her skin. She ran her fingers along the knife handle, trying to distract herself.

Struggling with indecision, Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. He'd never been good at dealing with anger, and somewhere along the line, he'd gotten used to lashing out. He knew it wasn't right, but he didn't know what else to do. There was so much guilt churning inside him already, twisting his insides…he couldn't take much more. Knowing that he didn't deserve an ounce of the concern she showed him, Daryl blew out a long breath and tried to swallow some of his pride. Doing his best not to move more than was absolutely necessarry, the hunter turned his head and stared at the woman beside him. For half a heartbeat, he let his eyes roam from her jaw, down her neck…but he refocused, clearing his throat softly. The sound was so low that Carol didn't hear, or if she did, she wasn't acknowledging him. Cursing within the safety of his mind, Daryl nudged her in the ribs with his elbow.

Confused, irritated, Carol turned to face him, her eyes questioning his actions.

He swallowed, trying to remember what he wanted to say. Blinking a few times, to clear his head, Daryl met her gaze and held it as he whispered. "It ain't you."

Carol's expression softened as she realized that this was his version of an apology. She wanted to say something…but the truck was slowing to a stop and everyone went rigid. fingers curled tightly around weapons, and breaths were held until chests hurt. The bed was filled with the sound of pounding hearts, and beads of sweat forming on skin. Daryl and Carol held the connection, neither looking away from the other. They'd reached the end of the drive. If there was anyone…or anything in the house…it would've heard the vehicles. Whoever lingered there would surely be coming out to investigate. Carol knew that encounters with other people were often more costly than those with walkers. She swallowed hard, silently pleading for the house to be empty. She tried to keep her focus on the man beside her, on the blue of his eyes and the lines of his face…

This could be the last thing you ever see…

Carol was scared; she didn't know what was coming…whether or not she'd live to see another day, but if she was going to die…she would go down with her family around her…hope in her chest and a heart swollen with powerful, all-consuming love.

Rick let the engine die as he studied the house. It looked to be a decent size. The deputy figured they'd find an attic and a basement if they were lucky. It was an older home; the roof was covered in graying tiles that looked like they might've been blue once. Mounds of rotting leaves and twigs filled the gutters; the windows had been boarded.

There could be people holed up inside…

Rick scanned the area; the house sat on a small chunk of land, maybe two acres…the woods surrounding it on all sides. He couldn't see any other vehicles…

Might be on the opposite side of the house; concealed.

Knowing that there was only one way to find out if the house was safe, Rick sighed and carefully pushed his door open. Lori caught him by the wrist before he could jump down from the cab.

"I'll be alright," he said, his voice gentle.

Lori's bottom lip was starting to quiver; her eyes were wide and dark with fear. He knew that she wanted to speak, but the words weren't coming.

"I need you to stay here; stay quiet 'n don't draw attention. I'll take T-Dog 'n Shane with me. We'll be back soon." Slowly, he pulled her soft hand from his wrist and brought it up to his lips; he gave her knuckles a soft kiss before releasing her hand. As he closed the door, he could see her staring at him through the grimy window. He reached up, letting his fingertips rest lightly against the glass. In the cab, Lori extended a pale arm and mirrored her husband; her fingertips were pressed to the inside of the window, matching up with his, as if she could somehow hold onto him. Rick gave her one last lingering look before turning away. With his colt tucked into the front of his waist band, the deputy braced his palms on the edge of the truck bed and peered in at his companions.

The frightened passengers stared back at him with wide eyes and pale faces. Leaning over, Rick let his knuckles brush Carl's cheek. "Stay here; keep your head down; this'll be over soon."

The boy swallowed hard and nodded.

"Shane 'n T; I want you with me." The deputy eyed the two men.

They each grunted softly as they rose from their hiding places and clambered to get out of the bed. Their boots hit the grass with soft thuds on either side of the truck. Unable to lie still any longer, Daryl propped himself up on his elbows and glared at the deputy. "I ain't stayin' here." he hissed.

Rick bowed his head for a moment, trying to determine the best way to handle the agitated hunter. "Daryl…" he started to argue but his words were cut off.

"Naw; ya best stop that shit right there!" Daryl was growling under his breath, his eyes trained on Rick. "I ain't stayin' here while ya'll check that house; ya'll need as many bodies as ya can get; could be a whole mess of assholes camped out in there." Daryl gestured angrily at the house.

Rick's hands went to his hips. "You're hurt; I think with your ankle..it'd be better if you stayed put."

The hunter's lips were curling back in the makings of a snarl. He turned his head and spat over the side of the truck. His chest was starting to heave as he gripped the side of the bed and began to haul himself up. T-Dog took a few steps towards the truck, trying to help, but Daryl snapped at him over his shoulder "Leave me be."

T-Dog sighed, backing away with raised hands. Shane leaned in, whispering to Rick as they watched the little struggle play out. "You really gonna let his reckless ass go in there?" Shane glanced at the house.

Rick scratched at his jaw. "Can't stop him."

Shane snorted, rolling his eyes.

With his bow in his hands, Daryl made his way around the truck and stood in front of his leader. "I'm goin'." he said, his tone indicating that he wasn't interested in getting Rick's blessing.

T-Dog, Rick and Shane exchanged glances, but no one offered up an argument. "Fine," said the deputy, his eyes trained on the hunter. "But we go in quiet; room by room, we clear this place, bottom to the top. Anyone gets into trouble, call out. Watch yourselves." Rick studied each of them in turn.

Shane, Daryl and T-Dog nodded solemnly in response. Rick pulled the pistol from his waist band and lifted it, gesturing towards the house. Silently, the four men began making their way towards the porch. For a fleeting moment, Daryl turned to look over his shoulder; he focused on the truck bed, thinking he might catch a glimpse of her, but the passengers were following orders…staying out of sight. Hoping to clear his head, Daryl blinked and tightened his grip on the bow. He needed to focus and keep calm; there was work to do.

"Locked…" Rick muttered as he tried the knob.

"I got it," said Shane, "Go on." He eased the others out of the way. Bracing himself, and taking a deep breath, Shane slammed his eyes shut and rammed the door, throwing all of his weight into the motion. He clenched his teeth when his shoulder made contact; they all heard the lock give way under the impact. There was a sharp crack and Shane nearly stumbled over the threshold as the door swung inward. Working to regain his balance, Shane began rubbing at the sore spot on his shoulder as he motioned for the others to follow him.

"Well if anybody's hidin', I'm guessin' they heard that…" T-Dog whispered as he raised his own pistol.

"Let's just see what we can see…" Rick whispered back, his eyes scanning the entryway.

They were tense, each of them cringing when Shane took a step forward, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his boot. The small group froze; their eyes darting from object to object as they looked for signs of life. The room they stood in was covered in gloom; the only light came from the door that was still open behind them. Rick glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he studied the grass and trees in the distance, the sliver of greenery visible through the gap in the door. "We should close it; put somethin' heavy in front of it…we'll hear if anyone's tryin' to come in after us." He said quietly.

T-Dog scanned the entry way. The group was standing in front of a stairwell, to the left, was a parlor of some sort. There was what looked to be a dusty sofa, a coffee table, book shelves. T-Dog decided the table was the best bet and he nodded, motioning for Shane to help him retrieve it. As the two men worked to lift the table and carefully carry it back to the front door, Rick and Daryl exchanged glances.

"What're you thinkin'?" the deputy asked in a hushed whisper.

Daryl's eyes took in the surroundings; he glanced to the right and saw another room. There were a few chairs, a long dining table…pieces of a shattered vase glittering in the dark, lying scattered across the table, along with several dried, withered flowers. Beyond the room, Daryl could see the kitchen. He gnawed his bottom lip for a moment.

Knives…

They were all armed, but rounding up some additional weapons wouldn't hurt. He figured he might even find some food.

"Kitchen." Daryl mumbled under his breath. "I'll check it out; see if there's any food left."

As the hunter turned to leave, Rick grabbed his arm, holding him in place. Daryl looked down at the fingers that were curled around him, and a growl began to rumble deep in his chest. When he lifted his chin to meet his leader's gaze, rage was glowing hot and blue in Daryl's eyes. He nearly tried to jerk away but Rick held firm, demanding attention.

"You sure you're up for this?" The deputy hissed, his eyes searching Daryl's face for even the slightest trace of doubt.

Daryl's jaw was clenched and he wanted nothing more than to tear his arm free of his leader's grasp, to fling curses in the man's face and prove that he didn't need anyone worrying about him like some damn child. But as the anger boiled in his blood, making his skin hot, Daryl remembered the clearing. He remembered the way he grabbed Carol's wrist, hurting her…

No. Can't keep doin' that….

The anger…the outbursts, hurting people…that wasn't what Daryl wanted, not really. It never solved anything, all it did was convince him that he wasn't fit to be around other people.

That ain't true.

He had to remind himself; Carol was slowly but surely getting him to accept his role in the group…she thought he had value….worth. For the first time in a long time, the hunter found himself questioning the cruel, bitter voice that seemed to always fill his head. He found that he'd grown tired of it, and that he was better off listening to the things Carol told him…her voice was gentler, more reasonable, and made him feel… lighter. Swallowing his anger, Daryl rolled his shoulders and exhaled through his nose. When he met Rick's gaze again, Daryl gave the man a slight nod. "I'm good. I'll call out if I need ya."

Sensing the change in his friend's attitude, Rick released him. "Alright then; keep your eyes open."

"You too," said Daryl.

With that, the two men parted ways.

Daryl could hear the hushed words behind him; the others were trying to decide which rooms to check…and in which order. But the hunter was focused on his task. He ignored the stiffness and soreness in his ankle and crept through the dining room, his footsteps muffled by a large rug. He kept his bow raised, one finger hovering over the trigger. When he reached the kitchen, he stood still, scanning the large room. He eyed the cabinets, the empty packages and containers that littered the counter tops, and an island in the center. It was spacious, he could tell, even in dark, that the room was probably the center of the whole house. There was a small breakfast table at the far end...several large windows, all boarded… He took a cautious step onto the stone, tile floor, and waited….but there was no sound…no movement. He made his way further into the room and caught a hint of his own reflection as he stalked past a large, stainless steel fridge. The tall, metal doors were covered in magnets shaped like letters, and Daryl took a moment to glance at the collection of drawings and finger paintings. Lowering his bow, the hunter slowly moved towards the fridge until he stood directly in front of it. His lips parted slightly as he squinted to see through the gloom. He was staring intently at a scribbled drawing of a flower. Lowering his arm, and letting the heavy bow hang limp at his side, Daryl reached out with a shaking hand and touched the picture. His calloused fingertips moved carefully over the construction paper, down, further, to the bottom of the picture. There, his fingers froze. His breath seemed to catch and his brows knit together as he stared hard at the name that had been written in marker.

Sophie.

There was a sudden, stabbing pain behind Daryl's eyes as he remembered the last time he'd seen the girl alive…happy. The images were just snapshots, fading…changing quickly, none lasting longer than a second. But he saw her… He saw her smiling, laughing with Carl…she was fine then…whole.

Swallowing hard, Daryl let his fingertips rest over her name. He flexed lightly, almost clinging to the piece of faded construction paper..his nails scraping against the rough texture. But he had to let go. Hanging his head, the hunter let his hand fall away like dead weight. After squeezing his eyes shut to keep the memories out of his head, Daryl took a deep breath and lifted his chin.

She's gone. Ain't here.

Knowing that he had to keep moving, the hunter eyed the sloppy signature for just a moment longer. Finally forcing himself to turn away, Daryl resumed his sweep of the kitchen. He slung the bow over his shoulder and quietly searched the cabinets. Daryl sighed in frustration, wishing he'd been able to turn up more than a couple of cereal boxes and a jar of peanut butter. He set his stash down on the island, making a note to come back for it later. With his hands on his hips, he eyed the room again. For the first time, he seemed to notice the knife stand near the sink. His eyes narrowed when he realized that the set wasn't complete; the largest knife was missing. Feeling himself grow uneasy, Daryl gathered the smaller knives as quickly as he could and set them next to the food he'd found. Thinking that his group might not be alone in the house, Daryl raised his bow and hurried to catch up with the others.

"Holy shit!" T-Dog had to keep himself from laughing as he turned the faucet in a small, guest bathroom, and saw a stream of water come rushing out. He turned to look at Shane who was standing behind him. "Man; you see that?!" T-Dog gestured to the sink. "Runnin' water!"

"Real nice," said Shane, "But I'm thinkin' we need to clear the rest of the house 'fore we start celebratin'."

Sensing that the other man wasn't going to share in his excitement, T-Dog sighed and turned the faucet off. "Fine," he said, "let's keep movin'."

Gripping their weapons, they moved quietly down the hall that would lead them back to the parlor, near the entryway. They were relieved to see Rick and Daryl standing at the foot of the stairs. "Any luck?" T-Dog asked.

Daryl grunted, shaking his head. "Nah; not much. Some cereal…jar of peanut butter…decent set of steak knives."

"Guessin' a full pantry was too much to ask for," Rick sighed.

"Least we got runnin' water in the bathroom." said T-Dog, a smile on his face.

"You serious?" Daryl asked.

"Yes sir." T-Dog gestured back towards the small hallway that led to the bathroom.

"If ya'll are about done pissin' yourselves," said Shane, "Think we best keep movin; check the second story." His eyes roamed up the staircase.

The hunter scratched anxiously at the back of his head before speaking. "The knives…in the kitchen…it wasn't a full set."

"Come again?" Rick asked.

"Biggest one was missin'." Daryl's mouth was a thin line, his expression grave.

"Could be somebody grabbed it before takin' off." said T-Dog.

"Maybe." The hunter's eyes narrowed as he looked around. "Or could be we ain't alone."

"No sense in sittin' here goin' over the possibilities; we gotta know, one way or another. C'mon." The deputy beckoned the others to follow as he began climbing the stairs.

They mounted the steps in single file, their weapons raised. Out of the corner of his eyes, Daryl noticed pictures hanging on the wall to his left. He paused for a moment, his hand coming out to wipe dust from the glass. He leaned in close, staring hard. It was a family portrait. Daryl took note of the parents.

Look like decent folks.

There were two kids in the picture; a boy and a girl. The girl was probably eight or nine…the boy was a toddler; his sister was carrying him and they both had a mess of red hair on their heads. From what he could tell, Daryl figured the picture was taken on the porch; he recognized the deep blue paint on the front door. He eyed the small family a moment longer, hoping they'd made it out…that they were safe somewhere. When he looked up, Daryl noticed he'd been left behind. The others had already reached the landing and were standing there waiting on him. Tearing his eyes from the picture, the hunter forced himself to keep moving; the pain in his ankle nagged him with each step.

When the group stood together at the top of the stairs, they each began to cough. Blinking and grimacing, each of them brought a hand up to cover their nose and mouth. The stench of corruption was pungent, stale and lingering on the second story of the house.

"That shit's never a good sign…" T-Dog coughed.

"No." Rick agreed, "It's not."

The smell of decomposing flesh hung thick in the air and none of them knew what to do. They looked around, noting the hallways and various doors.

"You wanna split up?" Daryl asked. "Everybody picks a room?"

The deputy nodded. "Think that's best. The sooner we get this floor cleared, the sooner we can get folks in here…start unpackin' the vehicles."

After exchanging worried glances, each of the men began heading in different directions. The moved slowly, carefully, doing everything in their power to muffle the sounds of their heavy footsteps. Daryl turned his head, coughing into his shoulder as he walked towards a door to his right. He reached for the knob but hesitated, his mind going over the possibilities of what might be waiting for him in that room.

Can't turn back now.

Biting his lower lip and summoning his courage, Daryl gripped the knob and turned, easing the door open. When he stepped inside, his chest tightened.

The girl's room…

He looked down and saw a light blue rug, patterned with butterflies. Treading softly, Daryl made sure not to step on any of the scattered toys littering the floor. There was a coloring book…markers and crayons strewn across the blue rug. He made his way around the end of a small bed and found himself standing in front of a partially opened closet. Using the end of his bow, Daryl eased the door the rest of the way open, but didn't see anything…nothing but a mess of clothes, a few pairs of sneakers. He sighed, unsure of what to think, or how to feel. It wasn't like he knew the girl…the family. But he knew what it meant to be afraid…to feel helpless. He hated the idea that someone as innocent as this little girl had to live in a world like this. But then it occurred to him that she was most likely dead. He shook the thought away, pushing the closet door closed. Feeling a strange sadness wash over him, Daryl took a step back and eased himself down to sit on the edge of the bed; he heard it creak beneath his weight. With his hands gripping the plush bedspread, Daryl released a heavy sigh and hung his head.

Rick slowly turned the knob and stepped into what he thought must be the master bedroom. The odor nearly made him gag; it stung his eyes and he took a moment to brace his hands on his thighs and lean forward, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to retch. When he felt that he could continue, the deputy stood up straight and took another hesitant step; the toe of his boot hit something, making him freeze. Staring down through the darkness, Rick saw a body…a man. The stranger lay on his side, one thin arm covering part of his face. Carefully, the deputy knelt beside the corpse and moved the arm to get a better look.

There was a sickening, greenish-grey tint to the man's skin. Rick looked closer and saw that the eyes were unnaturally pale…sunken.

He turned…

Coughing into his shoulder and doing everything in his power to keep the bile from rising in his throat, Rick began examining the body, trying to determine what happened. It was then that he noticed the wooden floor was stained where the corpse's head was resting. Black blood must have been oozing from a head wound, and had pooled on the floor…dark rivulets following the grain in the wood.

Somebody put him down…someone's been here…might still be here.

Tensing at the thought, Rick stood, his eyes quickly scanning the room. His heart rate began to rise and he swallowed hard, willing himself to remain calm. He moved past the body but stopped when he noticed something… As he squinted, he made out another corpse, slumped and leaning against a nightstand.

A woman.

When he got closer, the deputy could see that her head hung low, chin resting on her chest. Arms were limp at her sides and legs were stretched in front of her. Steeling himself, Rick reached out and brushed aside some of the woman's stringy hair. He stared hard at the back of her head, studying the dark wound.

Not big enough to be a gunshot wound…somebody stabbed her.

Backing away from the nightstand, the deputy looked around. He could see something… a pair of legs sticking out on the other side of a large bed that took up most of the room. He slowly made his way around the end of the bed, only to find something so devastating that the air left his lungs in an instant. Feeling weak, unprepared, Rick slumped to his knees His lips were parted but he didn't know what to say…he couldn't breathe. His shaking hands went to his hair, one still gripped the pistol while the other formed a tight fist, tugging at his locks. He wasn't sure if he was thinking the word, or speaking it aloud, but he could hear it repeating over and over…

No, no, no, no, no….

Stunned, Rick Grimes stared at the two small bodies he'd found on the other side of the bed. Brother and sister lay just a few feet away from one another. The floor boards were stained with their blood. Their pale, empty eyes seemed to stare at him, and he could tell there hadn't been anything human about either of them when they died. Overwhelmed, Rick leaned forward, cradling his pounding head in his hands.

No….no, no, no, no….

He was breathing hard, trying to ignore the terrible stench of rotting flesh that was burning his nose. He felt his gut twisting and his mouth went dry. As he knelt in the dark room, surrounded by death, the deputy struggled with what to do. Realizing that he couldn't handle the cold, lifeless stares of the children's eyes, Rick forced himself to stand. His legs were weak, and they nearly gave out, but he clung to the edge of the bed. Clenching his fists and yanking the fabric, the deputy jerked the white sheet away from the mattress. Carefully, he draped the cloth over the small corpses, hiding them. He couldn't look at them anymore. Trying to regain his composure, Rick made his way past the covered bodies and continued to explore the room. There was another nightstand, the same make as the one on the other side of the bed…but there was something resting on this one, and it caught the deputy's eye. A scrap of paper... Rick reached out and grabbed it.

An envelope….

Someone had scrawled a message on the back in marker…it was difficult to make out the smudged letters. Rick brought the envelope closer to his face and could see rust colored stains, like bloody fingerprints. Licking his dry lips, he began to read:

'Found this place….they'd already turned. I put them down. Couldn't stay…please, if you find this….do what I couldn't. Bury the bodies. I couldn't…had to go…please.' -M

When he finished, Rick glanced around nervously, as if he might find the person responsible waiting in some shadowy corner of the room.

They're gone…

He had to remind himself. Filled with a terrible sense of revulsion and loss, the deputy folded the envelope and tucked it into his back pocket before turning his back to the grisly scene. He knew the he would have to move the bodies…bury them, burn them…dispose of them somehow. The group…the others didn't need to see it. Not after everything they'd been through. As he stood in the dark room, struggling with indecision, he heard footsteps just outside the door.

"Rick? Ya alright?" Daryl growled under his breath.

The deputy's brows knit together; he couldn't let Daryl see it…not the kids. Forcing himself to move, Rick walked back to the door, almost bumping into the hunter. He fumbled for the knob with a sweating palm and pulled the door closed behind him.

Daryl took a step back, giving the deputy room. As the two men stood in the dimly lit hall, the hunter took in the expression on his friend's face. Rick had gone pale, his skin was clammy, damp…and his eyes had a faraway look that Daryl didn't like.

Growing anxious, the hunter tried to step around the deputy and reach the bedroom door but Rick's hand shot out, stopping him. "Don't." Rick swallowed; his breathing had picked up and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"What'd you find?" Daryl asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

Rick closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "Nothin' you need to see."

Daryl was getting angry. He snorted and tried to move past Rick again but the deputy shoved him back hard. "I said…" Rick paused, trying to control his breathing. "It's nothin' you need to see." The deputy's green eyes were trained on his friend as he tried to get the hunter to understand the meaning behind the words.

Anger was quickly transforming into rage as Daryl glared at his leader. "The hell you think you are?" Daryl snarled. "Think you're gonna tell me what I can 'n can't do? Sayin' you can handle whatever's in that room but I can't? That it?" Spittle flew from the hunter's lips as he spoke, his eyes burning.

Rick stood his ground, his jaw set hard. "I'm sayin'…." he spoke slow, emphasizing every word, keeping his eyes locked on Daryl's. "You need to trust me on this…" The deputy held out one hand, warding off anymore of Daryl's advances.

As the two men stared hard at one another, something snapped inside Daryl. The rage bubbling beneath his skin seemed to rush violently to the surface and he clenched his teeth as he stormed towards his leader again.

But Rick wasn't backing down; he was determined to spare his friend the hardship of seeing the corpses…he knew the effect that seeing the little girl would have on Daryl…and the man didn't need that in his head. With his face twisting in the makings of a snarl, Rick huffed and shoved Daryl in the chest again, but this time the hunter caught his arm, jerking and sending the deputy stumbling to the ground. But Rick grabbed Daryl's leg, pulling the man down with him. The bow clattered as it fell, skidding several feet.

The two men were growling and grunting as they grappled on the floor. Rick tried pinning Daryl by keeping his knee on the man's chest, but the hunter shoved the deputy off of him and tried to pry himself up off the ground. By this time, the noise had drawn T-Dog and Shane out their respective rooms. The two of them came jogging down the hall to see what was happening and they stopped just short of their companions.

Daryl lunged at Rick but the deputy managed to side-step him; when the hunter was within reach, Rick grabbed him by the middle, throwing him down to the ground again.

"Sumbitch!" Daryl hissed as he lay struggling on his back, seething. He gripped Rick's arms, trying like hell to pry the man off of him. The muscles in the deputy's arms were trembling with the effort of keeping the hunter on the ground.

But Daryl wasn't one to give in without a fight. He managed to get a leg free and he brought it up fast, his knee ramming hard into Rick's rib cage. The deputy lost his breath for a moment and Daryl used the opportunity to try and get up. But before the hunter could blink, a fist was connecting with his jaw. Then Rick stood up, breathing hard, and stared down at his companion.

Daryl's body twisted as he propped himself up on one arm. Panting, he hung his head and spat out a mouthful of blood. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and sat glaring up at his leader. He saw that Rick was gripping his side…the place where Daryl's knee had struck him. Both men stared at one another, each doing their best to mask the pain they were in.

T-Dog and Shane stood several feet away, shock and confusion on both of their faces. "The hell happened?" T-Dog asked, his eyes going from Rick to Daryl.

The hunter wiped at his mouth again and stared at the sticky, red stains on his wrist. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

With one hand still gripping his rib cage, Rick winced and dropped to one knee. Feeling as though he'd gone too far, the deputy extended an arm and locked eyes with his friend. "I'm sorry…" he said in a rasping whisper as he waited for the hunter to take his hand.

Daryl was suspicious of the hand hovering in front of him. After several seconds of consideration and ragged breathing, he grudgingly gripped it. Grunting and hissing, Rick used all his strength to haul his friend off the floor. When they were both standing, the men eyed one another. Daryl carefully rubbed at his jaw, trying to drive out the soreness; he knew it would be worse the next day. As he winced at the contact, the hunter realized that Rick must have had a good reason for what he did. Maybe it took a strong hook to the jaw to clear his head, but the hunter was finally ready to hear his leader out. "What'd ya find?" Daryl asked softly.

Rick released a long sigh and considered the question. "They're gone…"

Daryl's brows knit together. "What you mean gone?"

"They're dead Daryl."

The hunter seemed confused.

"The family…people who lived here…" Rick considered going into more detail, but thought better of it. He waited for his friend's reaction.

Daryl felt sick.

The girl…

He'd just been sitting on her bed…he'd seen her drawings stuck to the fridge. The thought of her in that room…her body just behind those doors… It was too much for him. Feeling some of the fight go out of him, Daryl turned away, moving stiffly until he was sitting on the top step, his head in his hands.

The others exchanged glances but didn't speak.

Knowing that he needed to make things right, Rick walked to the landing and sat down with a grunt. Carefully, the deputy reached out and let his hand rest lightly on the hunter's back.

Daryl tensed for a moment, but then his shoulders slumped.

"You alright?" Rick asked

The hunter pulled a deep breath into his lungs and held it there. "Fine," he lied as he exhaled.

Rick rubbed his friend's back, trying to think of what to say. "Lemme see; I wanna know how bad it is."

Sighing, Daryl lifted his head and looked at his leader.

Rick could see a little blood dripping from the corner of Daryl's mouth.

"It's fine," the hunter insisted. "Just tore my lip up is all. Been through worse."

"You should get cleaned up before you go back out there." said the deputy.

"Maybe." Daryl wiped at his bloody lip and eyed his leader. "Sorry 'bout kickin' ya. Ribs okay?"

Rick reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to get a better look at the damage. A large, dark bruise was already forming. "I don't think anything's broken; I'll live."

As they sat shoulder to shoulder, each man began to accept and understand what the other had done.

"Couldn't let you in there," Rick said, bowing his head.

Daryl nodded. "I know."

After several moments of heavy silence, Daryl ran a hand through his hair and looked around, taking in the scenery. The walls, pictures, doors… Knowing that his mind was made up, he let his hand slip down to his neck where he rubbed the aching muscles. "Can't sleep here," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Rick considered his friend's words. "What're you gonna do?"

"Didn't we find a tent? Back on the highway, goin' through all them cars?"

The deputy scratched at his jaw. "Think we did; it should be in the pick-up."

"Mind if I take it? I can set it up near the house; I'll be close by if ya need me…just don't think I can sleep under this roof…not tonight." said Daryl.

"I get it." Rick gave the hunter a good pat on the back before letting his hand fall away. "If you need anything…you see anything…just pile in here with us."

Daryl nodded and moved to stand, but Rick grabbed his shoulder. "Use the bathroom downstairs 'n get your face cleaned up before you head out." He leaned in, speaking low so that only the hunter could hear. "Don't need Carol seein' you like this; you know she'll worry."

"I know," Daryl answered. With that, he made himself stand. He stepped back up onto the landing and stooped to retrieve his bow. Once he'd slung it over his shoulder, the hunter slowly descended the stairs, never once looking back at the companions he'd left behind.

Andrea, Carl and Carol were still lying on their backs in the truck bed, each of them wondering how much longer they'd have to stay hidden.

Carl's eyes were wide as he stared up at a blue sky. His fingers were resting on his stomach and he started anxiously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Carol caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. "Hey," she whispered.

The boy looked over at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked under her breath.

Carl chewed his lip as he tried to think of how to answer her. "It's just….What if…"

"Stop." Carol urged. "If you start with the 'what if's,' you'll drive yourself crazy."

Carl turned away from her.

Wanting him to know that she understood his concerns, Carol reached out and gently took one of his hands in hers. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "There's nothing in there that they can't handle. Waiting is the hardest part…" she sighed. "But they'll be out soon."

The boy looked at her, hope and fear mingling in his blue eyes.

"I know they will." Carol gave his hand a squeeze.

Silence settled back over the truck bed, and an eternity seemed to pass as the occupants waited. Carol was counting off the seconds in her head, hoping the monotonous repetition would keep her distracted. Seconds turned into minutes, and then the minutes slid past, each seeming longer than the one before. She stared up at the endless expanse of blue above her…lips silently mouthing the numbers as she continued to count…

fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four….

She couldn't be sure how much time had actually passed when a sudden sound startled her. On instinct, she sat bolt-upright, her eyes fixed on the house. The front door was open and she could see T-Dog and Shane stepping out; they were carrying a large bundle between them…it looked like something wrapped in a sheet.

Bodies….

Carol's chest tightened.

What did they find?

The other's sat up, mimicking Carol's pose; their eyes trained on T-Dog and Shane. Rick emerged from the house a moment later, another large, wrapped bundle, slung over his shoulder. When the group saw that their companions were unharmed, they started hauling themselves out of the truck bed. Lori hopped down from the cab while Glen, Herschel, and the Greene girls slowly spilled out of the Buick. As they all exchanged nervous glances, the group headed up the lawn, towards the house.

Rick looked up and noticed the others advancing; he called out, not wanting them to get too close. "House is clear…but there were people inside…a family. They were already gone; we're workin' on gettin' the bodies out…got one more inside. You can go on in, check things out…but stay downstairs." He didn't wait for responses; instead, the deputy focused on his task and followed Shane and T-Dog around to the back of the house. He stopped every few feet, hefting the load he carried, his arms struggling with the effort. He'd told them as much as he was going to…as much as they needed to hear. The deputy didn't let Shane and T-Dog see the kids; he made sure to wrap the bodies securely in the sheet, only telling his companions that the dead needed to be moved. Maybe Rick couldn't fix everything…or stop his friends from grieving, but he could do this; he could spare them the hardship of seeing those two, small corpses, withered and pale. The terrible discovery was his burden to bare, and his alone.

Daryl sighed as he felt the beads of cold water trickle down his face. He stood in the small guest bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He'd done his best to dab at the torn part of his lip and wash away the blood, but the swelling was still noticeable, and he knew a bruise would form soon. Daryl huffed as he gripped the porcelain sink. The man in the mirror looked so tired…worn down. As he stared at himself, the hunter couldn't help but feel old…broken. It seemed like years ago that they'd all been together on the farm…safe, content.

He didn't know if the house they'd found would prove to be a safe-haven, or how long they could hope to stay, but he knew that he needed rest. He needed to get away from all of this…the constant struggle…fighting, running. He was so sick of death…of loss. Maybe he'd never been able to say it out loud, but what Daryl truly wanted, what he'd always wanted, was peace. His entire life had been filled with undeserved pain and pointless brutality. He didn't want to be consumed with fear and anger; he wanted solace. The hunter was physically strong; he was fast, skilled with his weapons, an ally anyone would be glad to have in a fight. But even so, he had his limits. Daryl didn't know how much more he'd be able to endure. The thought of that little girl…and what must've happened to her…it was taking a toll on him. He splashed his face again, wanting to cleanse himself and erase the images in his mind. A small towel hung from a ring on the wall; he grabbed it and dried himself off, wincing when the fabric brushed the swollen part of his lip. Releasing a heavy sigh, the hunter replaced the towel and backed away from the sink; he opened the bathroom door and left the man in the mirror behind him. He didn't know where he'd find solace, but he knew that getting out of the house was the first step.

The group watched as Rick, Shane and T-Dog disappeared behind the house. Maggie hugged her sister, pulling the younger girl into her side. "It's alright," she spoke softly into Beth's hair. "They're just tryin' to get the house fit for us to sleep in. It's alright."

The others all exchanged nervous glances; Glenn was the first to speak up. "Think we should start unpacking the cars…get our gear inside?"

"I think that's a good idea," said Andrea. "The sooner we get everything inside, the sooner we can start securing the house."

As they stood on the lawn, considering their options, they heard a low rumble somewhere in the distance. They tensed, looking around for the source of the noise. With her brows knitting together, Carol stared up at the sky and noticed a scattering of dark clouds forming in the distance, marring the otherwise perfect sky. "Looks like we might have to move this along…." she said. "We don't need all the supplies getting damaged in the rain."

Lori grabbed her son's hand. "Come on, let's head back to the truck and see what we can carry." The boy nodded, letting his mother lead him.

"Well then, let's get started," said Herschel. "No sense standing around waiting for the weather to get worse." He beckoned his daughters to follow him as he made his way back to the Buick. Glenn followed.

Left to themselves, Carol and Andrea stood together, eyeing the house. "Carol; we should help."

But Carol wasn't listening, her eyes were trained on the porch…the front door that Daryl had yet to emerge from. "Shouldn't he be out here?" she said softly, almost to herself.

"What's that?" Andrea asked.

"Daryl." Carol answered. "He went in with them…he should be out here."

Andrea took a step closer to her friend. "I'm sure he's fine; he's probably helping to bring down the last body. Rick said there was one more."

Blinking, Carol forced herself to look away from the door and turn around. "I'm sure you're right; come on." Slowly, stiffly, she began walking towards the truck. She could hear Andrea's footsteps behind her.

Anxious and exhausted, the survivors continued to make trips from the vehicles to the house. Their belongings were piling up in the living room; heeding their leader's instructions, none of them had ventured upstairs. When nearly everything had been brought inside, the group members began to divide their possessions and stake out temporary spots on the first floor of the house.

When Carol was making her final trip back from the truck, two sleeping bags bundled in her arms, she climbed the porch steps and froze. Daryl appeared in the doorway and the two locked eyes. Immediately, Carol noticed the cut on the corner of his mouth..and the bruising that had begun to form. Her lips parted, and she wanted to speak, but she didn't know what to say.

Unwilling to offer any detailed explanations, Daryl bowed his head and stepped aside so that she could get through the door. But even as she moved past him, her eyes were focused on his mouth. "How…are you alri…" but her words were cut off.

"It's nothin'…I'm fine." He grunted, turning away from her and making his way down the porch steps.

Unsatisfied with his answer, Carol quickly set her things down at the foot of the stairs before heading after him.

Daryl could hear her; he knew she was following him…and he knew she wasn't going to let up…but he didn't intend to tell her about his altercation with Rick. He kept on his path and called out, never looking back, "Go on; said I'm fine."

Carol hugged herself, undaunted. "We already unloaded the vehicles," she called out to him.

He grunted but didn't slow his pace.

She hurried to catch up with him and they met near the dropped tailgate of the truck. "What?" Daryl snapped, facing her.

Taken aback by the tone of his voice, Carol folded her arms across her chest and eyed the truck bed. "We moved everything inside. Were you looking for something?" she asked.

"Tent." he said as he climbed into the bed.

A crease was forming in Carol's brow as she watched him stoop to retrieve the tent. She didn't understand. "Why do you need that?" she asked.

The hunter jumped back down with a huff and stood in front of her. "Ain't sleepin' in that house." he growled.

She could feel the anger rolling off of him and he suddenly seemed intimidating; she took a step back, giving them both a bit of space. "Wh…why? What happened in there?" she asked, her eyes fearful.

He considered a response but when he opened his mouth, another deep rumble seemed to roll across the sky. He looked up, studying the grey clouds that had appeared in the distance, hanging like bad omens over the pine trees.

"Daryl…it's going to storm; you can't stay out here." She gestured outward with her hand, indicating the land surrounding the house.

He gnawed his lip for a moment but then decided that he was done with talking. Ducking his head he hefted the bow on his shoulder and walked past her, the tent tucked under his arm.

"Daryl?" she called after him.

He stopped several yards away and looked over his shoulder. "Just a couple clouds…little rain ain't gonna hurt nobody. Like I said; I ain't sleepin' in that house." With that, he left her standing alone by the truck.

She didn't know what to do…what she could possibly say to make him stay. Feeling helpless, Carol watched him go.

Leave him be. Whatever's gotten under his skin…he needs to work through it.

Carol found that following her own advice was easier said than done, but she wasn't going to trail after him like some puppy, and she wasn't going to be his punching bag. He'd have to take his anger out on someone else. Summoning her strength, Carol hugged herself tighter and left the truck behind as she headed back towards the house. The group needed her.

Once they'd taken all four bodies to the back of the house, Rick, Shane and T-Dog stood panting with their hands on their hips. They took several minutes to catch their breath and tried to decide the best course of action.

"You thinkin' we should bury 'em?" T-Dog asked as he eyed the four wrapped bodies.

"I don't know," said Rick. "That's a lot of digging; think we're gonna need to save our energy…might be better to burn 'em."

"We got the gas for that?" Shane asked. "Didn't think we could spare much fuel these days."

The deputy ran his hands over his face in exasperation.

T-Dog took a step towards him; "Hey man, ain't like we gotta figure all this out right now. They ain't goin' anywhere." he glanced at the corpses.

Rick blew out a breath and looked at each of his companions in turn. "I think…we get 'em out of sight…least for now. We need to be inside with the others. Gotta get the boards off the windows upstairs and air the place out."

Shane licked his lips. "How 'bout we get 'em just inside the woodline there." he pointed to the trees at the edge of the property. We'll know where they are; we can come out here…take care of 'em once we know what we wanna do."

Rick nodded. "Alright; come on." The three of them stooped, hefting the gruesome bundles in their tired arms. Stoney-faced, guilt etched into his features, the deputy lead his friends in the direction of the trees.

As dark clouds chased the sun across the sky, the survivors worked tirelessly to get settled in their temporary shelter. The men used Glenn's crowbar to pry the boards off the second-story windows; they needed clean air…and to remove the stench of death.

Downstairs, Andrea and Carol were storing the group's food in the kitchen. Maggie and Beth were searching through duffel bags, separating clothes for everyone. Lori and Carl were doing their best to rearrange furniture and create floor space in the living room. With tensions running high, the survivors were reluctant to spread out, and had opted to stay relatively close to one another. Shane and T-Dog's things had been moved to the dining room, just to the right of the entryway, while the others had all elected to camp out in or around the living room. Herschel took the blankets and pillows from a guest bedroom, and Andrea found a small linen closet with spare sheets. The group agreed that Lori should take the couch, since no one seemed to want to move into any of the bedrooms just yet. Little by little, the group was settling. With their belongings shoved in corners, and sleeping bags spread on the floor, the survivors finally began to grow hopeful. Despite the grim discovery that the men had made when they first entered the house, the others were warming to the idea of staying there…for an extended period.

"You think this could work?" Andrea asked, as she and Carol tried to clear the clutter and garbage off the kitchen counter.

"What?" Carol said absently.

"Staying here." Andrea eyed the large room they were in.

Carol ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "I don't know; maybe. Seems pretty isolated."

"I just…." Andrea gripped the edge of the sink. "I just want to feel like I can sleep without keeping one eye open…having a roof and walls…it's amazing, but… I don't know. Guess I'm just afraid to let myself get comfortable here….or anywhere."

"We've gotten used to being afraid." Carol said softly. "It's kept us alive this long."

"Maybe," said Andrea.

"You don't think so?" Carol asked.

"I'm just not sure what the point of living is if we're always afraid….if we can never feel safe." Andrea leaned against the counter, her eyes on the floor.

Carol reached out and gripped her friend's arm. "Maybe this will be different. If we find a way to really secure this place…to fortify…who's to say we can't stay?" she asked.

The women exchanged sad smiles, each grateful for the other's presence. "Guess I just forgot what it's like to feel safe," said Andrea.

Carol considered her friend's words. She was right; when was the last time any of them were truly safe? Had they even been safe once, since the world went to hell? No matter how hard they fought, or how fast they ran, tragedy always seemed to catch up with them. If she was being honest with herself, Carol would have to admit that the only time she'd felt safe was last night…in the clearing with Daryl. Somehow, she knew that they weren't in any danger…that he'd never let anything happen to her. At the end of the day, each of the survivors wanted the same thing…relief. They wanted to outrun the constant threats, to find shelter….and to breathe. They'd all been living in fear for so long, that they seemed to know no other way. But that was a difficult reality for Carol to accept; despite everything…she wanted to believe that there was a way back…to feeling safe…to happiness.

There has to be.

As the two women stood in the dimly lit kitchen, thunder rolled outside, stirring them from their thoughts.

"Jesus…" Carol breathed, putting one hand to her forehead.

"At least we don't have to worry about piling into the cars…what would we have done if we were still at the clearing?" Andrea asked.

Carol shook her head, smiling to herself. "Guess we'd be up shit creek."

Andrea couldn't help but laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Carol laughed lightly and headed for one of the large windows. The boards were still nailed across it; the men thought it might be best to leave the windows boarded on the first floor, but Carol peeked through the gap between two slats and caught a glimpse of the world outside. "Oh god…" she sighed.

"What?" Andrea asked.

"The sky…" Carol said softly. "Looks like it's getting worse outside."

"You're not really going to let him stay out there are you?" the blonde woman asked.

Carol looked over her shoulder, silently questioning her friend.

"Daryl…" Andrea explained. "I know he's stubborn, but is he really going to stay out there when the storm hits?"

Carol shrugged and turned back to the window, her eyes narrowing as she peered through the gap between the boards. "He might."

"Carol…that's ridiculous. We finally have a roof and walls…there's no reason for him to be out there. We should all be together. I know Rick doesn't want him out there alone. You should talk to him."

"What do you want me to say?" Carol asked, turning and raising her arms.

"Be honest; tell him he's being an ass. After everything…the last few days..it doesn't make sense to separate…he's taking a pointless risk by staying out there. We need to stay together….inside."

Carol folded her arms across her chest and began pacing the kitchen. "He's not going to listen to me…the only way he'll come in here is if he decides to do it on his own."

Andrea cocked her head to the side an studied her friend. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

"Excuse me?" Carol's brows were knitting together but she continued to pace.

"You're honestly going to tell me you don't have any influence on him?"

"I'm sorry; what exactly are you getting at?" Carol asked with a huff.

"I think he'll listen." said Andrea. "Maybe you don't notice it…or you're playing dumb, but he hears you when you talk. He's not like that with all of us…but he listens to you."

Carol was growing warm, whether from irritation or embarrassment, she couldn't be sure.

Andrea continued to stare at her friend. "Look; we both know it's a bad idea for him to be out there. You can either stay in here, arguing with me, or you can go outside and reason with him. Wouldn't you feel safer with him in here?"

Carol didn't have an argument. She stopped pacing and brought one hand up to rub the back of her neck. "I just don't think that I should have to….."

"Stop," said Andrea. "Just stop. You're wasting time. The weather's getting worse. Are you really going to let him catch his death out there in the rain because you're two of the most stubborn people on the planet?"

Carol moved back to the window and peeked through the gap before turning back to face Andrea. "Its' not even raining!" She huffed. There's just some dark clouds…maybe It'll storm…but I can still see the sun; I think he'll live."

"Carol…" Andrea insisted. "He's doing what he always does; he's making every effort to distance himself from us…to keep himself isolated. That needs to stop. The only way we get through this mess is by working together. He's a part of the group and he needs to stop fighting it."

Carol ran her hands down her face and released a heavy sigh.

"Just see if you can convince him to come inside; he shouldn't be alone. We could use all the help we can get in here." Andrea said softly.

"You're not gonna let this go are you?" Carol asked, feeling some of the fight go out of her.

"No; I'm not." Andrea answered with a smile.

Carol sank into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table and clasped her hands.

"At least try." said Andrea. "If he doesn't listen…we'll just get Rick to drag him inside later; none of us should be outside after dark."

"You know this is just going to piss him off…" said Carol.

"Maybe." Andrea shrugged. "You won't know until you try."

"Fine," Carol snapped as she stood and shoved the chair back under the table, hard. She stalked through the kitchen, pausing when she was in front of Andrea. "If he throws a fit….it's on you." Carol made sure to jab a finger into her friend's shoulder."

Andrea raised her arms in surrender. "Point taken." She watched her friend move through the kitchen, and then on into the dining room. When Andrea heard the front door open, and then slam shut, she smiled softly to herself. She knew that if anyone could persuade the sullen hunter to stay with the group, it would be Carol.

Just then Rick walked into the kitchen. "Was that Carol? She goin' somewhere?"

Andrea nodded. "Yeah; it's fine. She's just going to talk to Daryl about staying in the house; pretty sure we've got a storm coming and I thought it would be best if we were all inside."

"I don't like the idea of him bein' out there, but I couldn't figure out what to say to keep him in here…he likes his space."

"It's not safe out there Rick…there could be walkers…other people…a tent isn't gonna do much to keep anyone out."

The deputy rubbed the sore spot on his ribcage. "I know. He should be with us…just isn't the easiest person to talk to."

"I think he'll listen to Carol," Said Andrea.

Rick blew out a warm breath and placed his hands on his hips. "Hope you're right."

Daryl huffed, collapsing onto his stomach. He lay there, eyes closed, the side of his face pressed to the blanket he'd snatched from the house.

Lord.

He managed to get the tent set up, and he'd gathered his belongings. Trying to ignore the stinging cut on his lip, he lay down and tried to rest. The sore spot on his shoulder still hurt, but the ache had lessened. His ankle was more stiff than anything, and he was grateful to finally be getting some time off of it. He could hear the deep growl of thunder in the distance but he was too tired to care. He'd checked the domed ceiling of the tent for holes but hadn't found any; the rain wasn't going to bother him. For a few blurry minutes, Daryl wondered if there was anything else that he should be doing, but the isolation…the peace and quiet of the tent was making him drowsy.

Screw it; If they need somethin'…they know where to find me.

So he lay sprawled on the blanket, arms folded under his chin, and listened to the steady sound of his own breathing. His lazy mind slowly began to wander and he could see pictures in his head….the river…it's water shining black under the moonlight. A figure with creamy, pale skin…The images were hazy, fading…and the welcome darkness of sleep was crowding in around the hunter; he wanted to let it overtake him. The blanket was soft beneath him, and he was finally alone…away from all of the nagging distractions of the group. Feeling himself succumb to his exhaustion, Daryl rolled onto his side, his body curling slightly. His breathing slowed and he was just beginning to snore when he heard his own name.

"Daryl?" Carol called out softly; she stood just a few feet from the tent.

Within the safety of his shelter, the hunter propped himself up on one elbow and blinked. He felt dazed, caught in the terrible purgatory between sleep and the waking world. He squinted through the gloom of the tent and tried to determine what was happening.

"Daryl?" She called out again. "You in there? Just hoping I could talk to you for a minute…"

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the hunter realized that Carol was the one calling him.

The hell does she want?

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked, his fingers still rubbing at his tired eyes.

Outside the tent, Carol sighed in exasperation. She hugged herself and began to pace, feeling foolish. "No…nothing's wrong. Just thought we could talk…"

I have absolutely no business being out here.

She glanced up and saw that the sky was getting darker; there was a chill in the air and she suddenly wished she had a jacket.

Daryl had no desire to engage in conversation. All he wanted was to close his eyes and rest, to get away from all of the nagging bullshit for a while. He eased back down onto his side and huffed. "Whatever it is, It can wait. Go on. Sure they need ya inside."

Growing more irritated with each passing second, Carol kicked absently at the ground and blew out a warm breath. "Daryl…" she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "All I'm asking for is a few minutes…that's it."

Daryl's fingers were curling into a fist as he clutched the blanket beneath him. Realizing that she wasn't going to leave, the hunter angrily forced himself up. His temper flared and he stood, growling at the pain in his ankle. "Sumbitch…" he muttered under his breath as he fumbled with the zipper to the tent flap. When he finally managed to get it open, he stepped out into the cool air and glared at her. "The hell is so damn important?" He snapped as he stood with his hands on his hips.

Startled by his anger, Carol swallowed hard and took several steps back, separating herself from him. "I….I just…."

Daryl's eyes narrowed to mean slits as he took a step forward. "Ya just what?" His upper lip was curling back in the makings of a snarl.

Carol was unprepared for this level of hostility. Whatever argument she'd hoped to use to get him in the house…it vanished from her mind the moment those burning, blue eyes fixed on her.

This was a mistake…he's not going to listen to me…Rick, or anyone else….

For a second, Carol stood rooted to the spot and stared at the man in front of her. A slight crease formed in her brow and she wondered what caused the change in him. Last night, he'd held her hand as they stood around Patricia's grave…That morning, just hours ago, the two of them had joked at the water's edge as they both washed up.

What changed?

She suspected that his anger must've been caused by more than the discovery of bodies in the house. From what she understood, Daryl hadn't even seen the corpses.

Impatient, the hunter turned his head and spat. After wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, he swung an arm in the air and let it drop to his side in frustration. "Go on then," he barked at her. "If ya got shit to say, then say it. I ain't plannin' on standin' here all day."

Carol was at a loss. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

Daryl snorted. "Figures.." he muttered before turning away from her.

As she watched him move back towards the tent flap, Carol realized that she needed to act…to say something. She'd spent her entire life being someone else's whipping post, and she was tired of it. "Daryl…" she called out, her voice firm.

He slowly turned back around to face her. A few yards remained between them, but his eyes cut into her just the same. "What?" he snarled.

The old Carol might've cowered at the aggression in his voice…she might've turned and run, but that woman was gone; she had been for a while. Carol had witnessed so many terrible things…before the world went to hell. She'd spent too many nights, afraid…hiding from her husband…and then running from walkers. She watched her daughter's corpse crumble after Rick put a bullet in the girl's skull. She'd endured the most horrific pain that a mother can face, and she was still standing. Daryl's anger was not enough to shake her resolve.

"I came out here…" she said, making sure to speak slowly and clearly. "To try and convince you to move inside."

Daryl continued to glare at her.

"But I can see that it's a lost cause. Your mind seems to be made up and I don't really want to waste my breath arguing with you." She said, her lips set in a tight line.

For a moment, the two broken people stared at one another.

"Then why's your ass still here?" Daryl spat at her.

Carol straightened her back and folded her arms tightly across her chest. With blue eyes trained on the man in front of her, she cocked her head slightly to the side and forced herself to speak. "Because I want to know what I did. If you're going to treat me like this, you can at least do me the courtesy of explaining what it is that I did to upset you." She stood her ground and waited for an answer.

Daryl's lips parted but the words weren't coming. He was in awe of this woman…the way that she was speaking to him. He wasn't used to hearing Carol talk like this; her tone bordered on demanding, and he didn't know how to respond. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Told ya before…it ain't you." His voice was low, as if some of the fight had gone out of him.

Carol took a slow step towards him and narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure? Because that's what it feels like…If you really mean that…if I haven't done anything to upset you…then why are you taking this anger out on me? If I really didn't have anything to do with it in the first place?" She hissed.

He could hear the venom in her words and it made him flinch; he wouldn't look at her.

Carol took another step in his direction and paused. "No answers for me? Fine. Stay here if that's what you really want, but I need you to hear me Daryl."

He took a deep breath and made himself look at her.

"I have enough on my plate." Her voice was dangerously low, and it made him uneasy. "I don't need you flinging your anger at me…Either learn to control it…or stay out here…away from everyone. That's what you really want anyway, isn't it?" She bit out the last words and glared at him.

The hunter's fists were balling at his sides and his breathing had picked up but he still couldn't summon the right words. As the two stared at each other, Carol realized that the whole thing was pointless. Thunder rolled overhead and the sky was growing darker. Sighing, Carol turned to leave. Before she could get too far, she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Do what you want Daryl. But you're right; they do need me inside. I'm not going to stand here, wasting my time and energy on someone who'd rather be alone anyway." With one last lingering glare, she turned away and was heading back to the house.

A sickening blend of rage, hurt, and fear was churning inside the hunter. He didn't know how to tell her…how to explain his actions… the change in his attitude. But something about the way she'd spoken to him had unnerved Daryl. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that he needed to respond. He couldn't let her walk away from him without fighting back. With his hands on his hips, he called out to her, "What makes you think you got me figured out?" He stared hard at her back, waiting for a reaction.

Going rigid, Carol froze in her tracks. Slowly, she turned around and studied him. "I think you've made yourself pretty clear…" she said bitterly. "All you've ever wanted was to be left alone. You do everything in your power to isolate yourself from the rest of us, and I have no idea why. What are you afraid of?" Her brows were knitting together as she questioned him.

Her words stung and Daryl had to fight to control everything that was rioting inside him. The wind was picking up as the storm got closer.

Carol knew that she'd struck a nerve. She could see his fists beginning to shake at his sides. "I was right, wasn't I? You're afraid." Her words were filled with malice as she goaded him.

Daryl didn't like the way that she was pushing him…he wasn't used to it. Feeling his temperature rise, he began stalking towards her, quickly closing the gap until he was standing in front of her. He was dangerously close, his body nearly vibrating with trapped rage. His head was tilted to one side as he locked eyes with her. He had to fight to control his breathing, but Carol wasn't backing down. She met his gaze and held it, unafraid of whatever was coming. "Ya ain't got no call to be talkin' bout shit ya know nothin' about," he growled under his breath.

Carol swallowed hard. "Say whatever you want Daryl; I know you're scared." she hissed.

"I ain't scared of shit…" he snarled; his eyes were burning blue.

The boom of heavy thunder startled them and they both looked up at the grey clouds overhead. A chilling wind whipped around them and Carol hugged herself. "Then what's your reason?" she asked. "Why do you work so hard to distance yourself from everyone?" Her voice had a definite edge now.

Daryl didn't know what to say. His mouth opened and closed again. Feeling as though he'd failed, he bowed his head and gnawed his lower lip. His silence was deafening, and hurt Carol more than she'd ever admit. After everything they'd seen…all the things they'd lived through together…

He still doesn't trust me enough to tell the truth….

Suddenly feeling tired and empty, Carol decided to abandon the fight. If the person she felt closest to in the world couldn't open up to her…then what was the point of it all? The clearing, the gun shop…the RV…Sophia? Had it all been meaningless? Unprepared for the ugly realities taking shape in her mind Carol turned away again. She hugged herself tighter and began hurrying towards the house, the thunder roaring behind her, chasing her away from him.

The hunter was watching her leave…again. A deep boom seemed to echo all around before the sharp crack of lighting split the sky. Carol gasped but didn't stop. Daryl flinched at the sound. He didn't know what was happening, what had just taken place between them…but he couldn't leave things as they were. Before he could stop himself, he was cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling over the thunder. "Carol! We ain't done here!"

Angry, emotionally exhausted, she stopped.

I can't keep doing this….he needs to let me go, and I need to leave him be.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself not to cry. The man that she'd just run from…he meant everything to her. How many times had he saved her? Pulled her off the ground when she thought she'd never get up again? How many times had he given her hope when they were surrounded by death and destruction? As much as he craved distance, he never managed to get too far. He was there…on the ground with her when she found Patricia's corpse…his arms were wrapped around her when Sophia stumbled out of the barn. And after all of that…he was pushing her away again? Carol had never been more conflicted in her life. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pulled a shaky, cleansing breath into her lungs and turned around. Terrible fear and sadness shone in her eyes; she stared at him, not knowing what to say or do.

Even from a distance, Daryl could see the pained expression on her face. The wind was getting worse, but the two survivors stood frozen. Now that he had her attention, the hunter had no idea what to tell her. She was waiting for him to speak… to act, but he couldn't.

With her nerves still frayed from the lighting that struck moments ago, Carol had to force herself to move. Her footsteps were stiff, slow at first. But the closer she got, the bolder she became. A startling change was taking place in her mind. She seemed to see clearly, for the first time in a long time, and she realized that she had nothing left to lose. She'd been beaten, broken…she'd watched the people she loved be torn apart…but she'd come through it…somehow. She was a different person now, stronger than the woman who cowered in her tent at the quarry. She knew who she was, and she knew what she wanted. Everything that mattered…it was right in front of her…she just had to be brave enough to take it.

Daryl was scared….he didn't know why she was coming back…what she wanted. But he couldn't make himself move. His legs were rooted to the ground and his mouth had gone dry. All he could do was watch as she advanced; she was moving faster now, almost hurrying towards him. But the sky was roaring again, the breeze blowing strands of messy hair into his face. He squinted, trying to focus on her shape as she got closer, but then everything seemed to slow…The trees rustling and bending in the wind…their motion seemed to drag…the air was heavy, hazy around him, and then she was there. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heart.

When Carol finally reached him, her blue eyes found his and they held the connection for half a heartbeat. But Carol couldn't wait anymore. She had to know…and she was tired of being afraid. Exhilarated, terrified, Carol stood on her toes, placed one hand gently to the side of his face and pressed her lips to his. Her eyes closed, as she savored the feeling. Suddenly, nothing else mattered…not the storm threatening to overtake them…not the bodies they'd found in the house…nothing. He wasn't moving…and he wasn't reciprocating. He simply stood still, paralyzed as her lips lingered on his. With her eyes shut tight, Carol did her best to memorize the feeling of being so close to him. She'd thought about this a thousand times, closing the gap…but she never imagined that she'd actually summon the courage to do it. Despite everything…the way he'd snarled at her moments ago, the ceaseless doubt that had plagued her thoughts, the baggage she knew they both carried…despite it all, they were there, standing beneath an angry sky, connected. Sensing that she'd gone too far, she let her hand fall away from his face and pulled her mouth from his. She took a shaky step back, giving him room to breathe. Carol couldn't speak, her heart was in her throat and it was choking her. All she could do was stare at him…and wait. She was breathing hard as she watched his face.

What have I done?

The hunter was in shock. He didn't know what to think, or what to say to her… He couldn't even be sure of what had just taken place. Wild-eyed, confused, he stared at her, speechless. He focused on her mouth…and tried to process the fact that it had been so close to his, just seconds before…

As the two stood in silence, thunder crashed above them. They both blinked as a light rain began to fall, drops of water clinging to their hair and lashes.

His mind reeling, Daryl finally managed to make himself speak. "W…why?" was all he could ask.

Carol stared at him and realized that she would never have the right words…nothing she could say would ever do her feelings justice…but he needed to know, he deserved to know. The rain was slipping from the ends of her hair as she took another step towards him. He could've backed away, but he didn't. Carol reached out, placing her hand gently on his chest; she could feel him trembling. Her other hand went to the side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "It's alright," she whispered. "We can stop if you want to, I…..I just needed to show you." Standing on her toes again she let her lips hover just over is. Before she made contact, she whispered to him, "Is this okay?"

Terrified, but powerless to stop her, Daryl managed a weak nod. He tried to brace himself, but it was too late. Her lips were pressing softly against his. The slight pressure she applied was incredible and Daryl didn't know how to react. He could feel drops of rain water rolling down his face, making his lips wet. He knew that he should move but he was frozen. Carol could sense his reservations, breaking away from his mouth, she met his gaze. He looked scared. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked. Her hand moved from the side of his face to gently caress his neck.

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling with each breath; he already missed the pressure of her lips. The hunter didn't know how to answer her, so he decided to show her. With his eyes fixed on hers, Daryl tilted his head to give her better access to his mouth. In awe of the invitation, Carol moved back in quickly, shuddering when her lips hit his. This time, she felt him start to move with her, his lips pressing back just a little. Her grip tightened on his neck and suddenly she wanted all of him; she couldn't stop herself from sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. He gasped at the sensation and Carol took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth.

The smoothness of the motion, the startling quickness of it took Daryl's breath away. He was powerless against her, and had to let her in. His brain couldn't really process what was happening but he knew he didn't want it to stop. Lost in the taste of her, his hand went to her hip, gripping her tight. His mouth began to work against hers, and the feeling was almost too much for Carol. She'd wanted this for so long, as she was finding it difficult to believe that it was finally happening.

Lightening struck again making them jerk apart. Breathless, they both looked around, their eyes fixing on the house in the distance, when they refocused on each other, Daryl shook his head. Carol understood; they couldn't go back there…not now. The rain was intensifying, heavy droplets pelting them; they wiped the water from their eyes and stared at one another. There was another crack of lightening and Daryl grabbed her wrist tugging her after him into the tent. Once he'd zipped the flap, he turned staring at her. She was shaking, cold and wet as she sat down on the blanket that he'd spread out earlier. He slowly sat down across from her, each of them listening as rain struck the vinyl roof. It was then that they realized they were in over their heads; neither knew how to move forward.

Daryl was anxiously gnawing his thumbnail, his eyes flicking to her face every few seconds.

Carol could taste him on her lips. After several minutes of heavy silence, she decided to voice her thoughts. "About before…." she ran her hands through her wet hair as she tried to slow her breathing. "I…I'm sorry…I just…"

The hunter stared at her, waiting for her to finish.

"I don't want to stop…" she said softly, her eyes finding his. She waited for opposition but none came.

Daryl was sitting cross-legged and he let his thumb fall from his mouth. His hands were resting in his lap but he didn't know what to say. His lips were burning where she'd kissed him.

Carol knew that some part of him must feel the same…or they wouldn't be here. He let her kiss him…he'd even started to kiss her back…and now they were alone, in his tent. Steeling her nerves, Carol began to crawl towards him. Daryl couldn't move. When she was finally kneeling in front of him, she reached for one of the hands resting in his lap. Her arms were shaking, but she forced herself to continue. She clutched his wet hand in hers and brought it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she kissed his fingertips. One by one, she pressed them to her lips, kissing them softly, her thumbs carefully massaging his palm.

Daryl was in awe; he stared, transfixed, at the woman in front of him. When she'd kissed the last fingertip, her eyes eased open and she focused on him. In that moment, Daryl knew…no one had ever looked at him like that. She stared at him…like he was the only thing that existed. Not knowing what to say, Daryl simply kept his eyes on her.

Sensing that she needed to make him understand, Carol leaned forward; she didn't hesitate and she didn't ask permission…she simply kissed him. She could hear the raindrops pelting the roof, the sound echoing in her ears as she applied gentle pressure to his mouth.

Daryl could feel pleasure beginning to ripple through his body, making him warm. Feeling weak, he slowly eased onto his back. They didn't break the connection. She stayed above him, over him, kissing him. His legs were stretched in front of him and Carol was bending over him, keeping their lips together. The kiss was gentle, lips pressing against lips, they hadn't deepened it. They separated when they needed air. Breathing hard, they stared at one another. Carefully, she moved so that she was laying between his legs, her palms resting on his chest. He raised his knees on either side, almost trapping her between his legs. Feeling drugged, she smiled softly at him. "Is this okay?" she asked, meaning the way they were lying together.

Daryl nodded; he didn't trust himself to speak. He wanted to keep her warm body close to his. He wanted contact. Acting solely on instinct, the hunter reached up, placing his hands on her shoulders. Carol shuddered but didn't stop him. Hoping that he was doing the right thing, Daryl let his hands slide from her shoulders and move slowly along her sides, until he was lightly gripping her waist. Mesmerized by the feeling of his strong hands on her body Carol returned her attention to his mouth, capturing it with hers.

They both closed their eyes and gave themselves over to everything coursing through them. Carol loved the feeling of his chapped lips pressing against hers. This time she didn't need to bite his lip, he opened his mouth willingly and let her in. Daryl couldn't stop the groan that came from deep in his chest when her tongue slid against his, again…and again. His grip tightened on her waist and she responded by sucking at his tongue. His fingers were digging in near her hips and she worried that this might be too much for him…for both of them. Releasing his mouth, she stared down at him. Her face was flush and she had to fight to slow her breathing.

"This…" she managed to say between breaths, "It's a lot…"

Daryl licked his lips, tasting her there.

"I need you…" she continued. "To tell me…if it's too much."

The hunter studied her. "Scared?" he asked in a hushed growl.

"A little…" she breathed, anxiety plain in her voice. "Aren't you?"

He nodded.

Feeling as though she'd skipped a step, in her urgency to kiss him, Carol braced her palms on his chest and pushed away from him. She sat back on her heels, trying to catch her breath, and Daryl sat up, watching her. Suddenly the tent seemed so small, stiflingly so. Carol cleared her throat and ran her hands through her hair.

What are we doing?

Knowing that this was all weighing on her mind, Daryl moved so that he was sitting beside her. "Ya alright?" he asked.

She sighed, staring down at her hands. "Yeah, I just…its strange. Surreal I guess, to go from being what we've always been…"

"And what's that?" Daryl asked, interrupting her.

Carol chuckled nervously. "I don't know exactly; I've been trying to figure that out. But this…" she let her fingertips rest lightly against her lips, remembering the way it felt to kiss him. "This is…very different."

Daryl snorted. "It is. That a bad thing?"

Carol turned to face him. "No!" she breathed. "No; of course not."

The hunter found her vehemence amusing.

"It's just…a lot. And…" she struggled to find the right words. "I don't want to feel like I'm pushing this on you."

He could still see the flush on her face, making her freckles glow. He knew she was fighting an internal battle; creating feelings of guilt that were entirely unnecessary. "I ain't good at all this," he said, glancing around the tent.

Carol studied him, "What?"

He bowed his head, not wanting to look at her. "Bein' close to people."

Her expression softened; they were both lost. "It's hard," she admitted. "Letting your guard down, but…" she swallowed hard and forced herself to finish the thought. "I want to try."

Daryl lifted his chin and met her gaze.

"Maybe…we can start over?" she asked softly.

Daryl studied her face for a moment and nodded slowly.

Carol blew out a warm breath and continued to run her hands through her damp hair.

As if I know how to start over…

The hunter could see how conflicted she was; she was scared…nervous. He couldn't blame her. This was something entirely new for them…overwhelming and unexpected. Daryl didn't know what any of it meant, but he knew the way her tongue felt slipping into his mouth…and he knew what is was like to have the taste of her on his lips. They were sensations that he wasn't willing to give up, at least not now. But Carol was right; the kissing…was a lot. And the hunter knew they needed to be careful. They couldn't rush this, or force it. Daryl didn't want to stop; he knew she didn't either. But he was unsure of what to do next.

He'd never considered himself to be very intuitive, at least when it came to the opposite sex. Most of his conversations with Carol felt like puzzles that he couldn't solve; intriguing, but frustratingly complicated. He needed clear, distinct signals, and he supposed that her kissing him was about as clear as she could get. But as far as proceeding….Daryl was lost. All of his insecurities were beginning to resurface and he just wished that he knew what to do. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; she'd brought her knees up to her chest and was hugging them tightly, a small crease in her brow as she kept her eyes trained in front of her. Daryl thought that she looked the way he felt. He wanted to erase that look on her face.

She started this…probably feels like she's the only that wants it…you can meet her halfway.

Relying solely on instinct, the hunter inched closer to her and slowly bowed his head until his lips were resting over the sweet spot between her neck and her shoulder. Carol stiffened at the contact and swallowed hard; she was afraid to move. Daryl didn't kiss her, or bite her, he just let himself rest there. The hunter closed his eyes and focused on her scent…the way it invaded his senses, flooding his mind. She smelled like rain; he could feel the drops of water, wet skin against his lips. He took his time, breathing her in, pulling the scent into his lungs over, and over.

When Carol felt like she couldn't take anymore, she made herself speak. "Wh…what are you doing?" She whispered, nearly choking on the words when she felt his warm breath hit her skin.

"Don't know." He said, his voice hushed. "I need ya to tell me."

Carol was having trouble breathing. The sound of his voice, and the fact that he was so close…it was making her dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear her head. She knew they would never move forward unless they helped one another; they needed to be patient…guide each other. But Carol had never done this before. She'd never been in a position to tell someone what she wanted…what she needed. Ed hadn't cared, but Daryl was asking. The idea of telling Daryl what to do, was at once exciting and terrifying. With her eyes still closed, she blew out a breath and started to speak, "I…"

The hunter pulled away from the safety of her neck and stared at her. His blue eyes were focused on her face as he waited patiently for Carol to finish the thought.

His gaze made her weak and everything she'd planned on saying was slipping from her mind. "I…" she said again, her voice wavering, uncertain.

"Go on," he said softly, urging her to continue. "Jus tell me what ya want."

The fact that he cared enough to ask what she wanted was surreal to Carol. No one had ever been this way with her. For someone who held so much anger in their heart, Daryl was being incredibly patient with her. There was nothing forceful about him; his only concern seemed to be her, and it was difficult for Carol to accept that. She felt her chest tighten as she stared at the man who'd come to mean so much to her. Suddenly, the answer seemed clear…

Let yourself have this….let yourself be happy

Finally allowing a soft smile to creep onto her face, Carol blushed and tried to hide it by tucking her head into her shoulder. Daryl could see the change in her and it made him feel…lighter. "Carol," he said, trying to get her to look at him.

She chuckled nervously but wouldn't look at him.

The hint of a smile was tugging at his mouth as he watched her.

After several seconds, Carol could feel the flush spreading over her entire body. When she felt brave enough to meet his gaze, she opened her eyes. Gnawing her bottom lip, she considered what she was about to say. "The way you were before," she said softly, bringing one hand up so that her fingertips could graze the spot on her neck where his mouth had been moments ago.

Smirking at her, Daryl moved back in.

She tensed as he got close to her, but the second his lips touched her skin, she let out a shaky breath.

"Like this?" he asked, the whispered words tickling her neck.

Carol chuckled again, nodding as the nervous energy continued to bubble inside her. He lingered there, breathing her in, getting used to the closeness. But as seconds ticked past, Carol realized that she needed motion. The laughter died in her chest and she swallowed hard, knowing that she would have to voice her thoughts.

He needs to hear it.

Before her courage could fail her, Carol made herself speak. "Kiss me." she whispered; the words were so soft that she wasn't sure he'd heard her. She stared out into the gloom of the tent and waited, the sound of rain filling her ears. She tried to control her breathing as she listened to the pit-pat of droplets striking the roof, but in the next instant…she felt it. Daryl's lips were applying gentle pressure to the place between her neck and her shoulder. The feeling was incredible and a small gasp escaped her.

Daryl felt her muscles tense the moment he kissed her, but the sounds she made were encouraging him. He kissed her again, his lips moving against wet skin. He felt her jerk slightly, as if he were tickling her. "Wanna stop?" He asked between kisses.

"No…" Carol breathed, her eyes closed as she savored the feeling of his mouth on her body. "No…please; don't stop."

Her words made his temperature rise and he couldn't help but to bite down, catching her flesh between his teeth.

Carol gasped, her hands curling into fists, clutching desperately at the blanket beneath her.

Daryl could taste rainwater in his mouth and he sucked at the tender skin, feeling like he couldn't get enough. He continued to apply pressure with his teeth, while his tongue moved slowly against her skin and his mouth sucked harder. He wanted a reaction; he wanted to hear her.

Carol couldn't breathe; she'd never experienced such a powerful sensation. When he began sucking her flesh, she felt a stabbing pain in her core. She needed to act. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her hand flew to his hair; she tugged sharply, forcing him to press in harder against her neck.

A low growl came from the hunter as he bit down again, loving the tension he could feel in her skin. "Like that?" he asked, her flesh still caught between his teeth.

"It's not…enough…" Carol breathed.

Before Daryl had time to over think what she'd said, her body was twisting and she grabbed his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He groaned when their lips connected; hers were soft, wet, and he loved the forceful way she was pressing against him. Hungry for her, he opened his mouth, feeling her tongue slip under his. Blood poured itself into the lower half of his body and suddenly he understood what she'd said.

Ain't enough…

He lifted his palms from the floor of the tent and reached for her waist. Once his fingers were curled around her body, he tugged at her, urging her to come towards him. Carol moved with him, not wanting their mouths to separate. Fumbling, and fighting for air, they worked together until she was in Daryl's lap, straddling his waist, her legs instinctively wrapping around him. He was still sitting up, even though his instincts were telling him to lie down and drag her with him. Something about having her like that, in his lap…on top of him, the weight of her pelvis pressing down on his…it was intoxicating. He kept his hands on her waist, gripping her tight, keeping her in place. One of her arms had curled around his neck and her hand formed a fist in his hair. Her other hand was resting against his chest, absently rubbing him as they kissed. They seemed to breathe into each other's mouths, neither wanting to give up the connection.

When she felt his tongue move past hers, sliding into her mouth, warm and wet, she clawed at the front of his shirt and tightened her fist in his hair. The sensation made him gasp and Carol eased back, separating them. Restless and breathing hard, they stared at one another. She was still clawing lightly at his shirt, her body teeming with trapped energy. He glanced down at her pale hand, but Carol wanted him to look at her. Frustrated, she tugged sharply at his hair, demanding his attention. The sudden pain transformed into pleasure, making Daryl slam his eyes shut and dig his fingers into her waist. His groin tightened and he could feel himself going rigid beneath her. His eyes stayed closed for several heartbeats as he enjoyed the feeling of her fist in his hair. She tugged at him again and he grew harder; the sudden change in his body made Carol gasp. Daryl's eyes opened at the sound and he stared at her. Their ragged breathing echoed inside the tent as they watched one another. Daryl had grown so used to hiding this from her, his need, that he was worried about how she would react. He couldn't control his body's reaction to her…not anymore. Licking his lips, he glanced down at the place where their hips met; when he lifted his chin to refocus on her, his eyes were questioning.

She could see the doubt on his face, and she wished he could read her thoughts.

I want this…I want you.

But Carol knew that words weren't enough. She could feel his desire, strong, hard between her legs and it was driving her crazy. Biting her bottom lip, she smirked at him. Before he could process the look on her face, Carol rocked her hips gently, her core pressing down on his need. The motion made him curse.

"Fuck…" he breathed, his eyes closing for a moment. His nails were digging in hard at her waist.

Needing to taste him, Carol's hands went to his temples, bringing him towards her. His mouth worked hungrily against hers, teeth biting at her lips, tongue massaging hers as he tried to get as much of her as he could. He wanted to devour her. His fervor took Carol's breath away and she felt him applying pressure to her hips, trying to get her to move. Wanting to give him whatever he needed, Carol rocked her hips again, purposefully grinding against him. The feeling of his erection made her entire body ache and she sucked at his tongue.

Daryl was losing himself. It was getting harder to tell where her body ended and his began; he just wanted to stay close to her, he wanted her skin against his, her hands in his hair, her taste in his mouth….everything she was willing to give him. His heart was pounding harder and he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a breath. He wanted her body to keep moving.

As their kisses deepened, Daryl's hands were moving up from her waist, sliding until they reached her ribcage. He was clinging to her, as if she might be torn from him at any moment. Sensing the urgency, Carol's body began to move on its own. She didn't need his fingers at her waist, prodding her…her hips had slowly begun rocking against his, creating a friction that seemed to burn through both of their clothes. Her movements were deliberately slow, torturing both of them. She wanted to savor this…the hardness she could feel between her legs. Daryl hissed every time, his nails clawing at the fabric of her shirt. The heat between their bodies was stifling and Carol's mind was going hazy. Swept up in their fever, she wasn't even sure when his mouth left hers…But suddenly she could feel his head resting in the crook of her neck, heavy, warm breaths pressed to her skin. And she didn't know when her arms wound around his neck, but her fingers were tangling in his hair, tugging at the damp locks while her hips continued to move. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted as she tried to give herself over to every selfish want…every last carnal need. His broad hands were pressing into her ribs so hard that they made her ache, and his teeth were sinking into her shoulder as he struggled to breathe. Carol could feel the ends of his hair slipping through her fingers but she fought to hold on. There was something desperate about the way they clung to one another…nails clawing, legs locked, flesh caught between teeth.

The friction they'd created was driving Daryl closer to an edge he wasn't ready for. But the feeling was addictive and he needed her to keep going. He felt drugged as she slowly ground her hips into his. Every motion of her body seemed to weaken him, and when her long fingers began to thread in his hair, he had to bite her shoulder to keep from groaning. He wasn't sure how long they'd been like that…or how much more he could take. The hunter still retained enough awareness to realize that he wasn't focused on her…he'd gotten lost in the feel of her body and was relishing every little thing she did to him, but he wanted to make sure that she was getting what she needed. This wasn't about him, it was about them. Pulling away from the safety of her neck, he leaned into her until he was gently holding her lower lip between his teeth. She gasped, tugging at the ends of his hair; he winced for a moment, the pain in his groin intensifying. But when the wave of pleasure finished coursing through him, he looked at her. Without releasing her lip, he growled softly, "You good?"

Carol managed to nod before kissing him hard. When they broke apart, Carol's lips were still hovering over his and she smirked at him. "I'm better than good," she whispered. Daryl didn't have time to think before her mouth captured his and one of her hands slid back down to his chest. Grunting, she used all of her strength to push him; he submitted, falling onto his back. The kissing didn't stop. They continued to taste one another as Daryl's hands moved to her thighs. She was still straddling his waist, and he used his grip to keep her there; he needed all of her weight resting over his pelvis….pressure.

"Fuck…" he breathed again when he felt her hips roll against his. With the ground at his back, he had better leverage and he used it to buck up into her center when she moved.

Unprepared for the sensations ripping through her body, Carol broke away from him and moaned behind locked lips, her nails scratching at his shirt. When he pushed his hips up into hers, she could feel the length of him pressing into her core…it was enough to make her entire body tremble. He watched her above him, as she struggled to contain whatever it was that made her pull away. Her legs were locked on either side of his body and he could see her arms shaking as she held herself up, her palms splaying over his chest. She wanted nothing more than to keep moving, but she worried that this was too much for them. She knew that she was losing control of her body; sweat had broken out under her clothes, and her breathing had become shallow. A thousand feelings were demanding her attention, but in the back of her fevered mind, Carol wanted to know that there was more to this than skin, lips, heat and friction.

What does it mean?

But the voice in her head was weak…fading, as Daryl continued to grip her thighs. She wasn't sure when, but his hands had begun to move slowly, forcefully, up and down her thighs, squeezing her flesh. She loved having his hands on her body, and the way he gripped her…he was so strong and Carol couldn't help but to become mesmerized. He held her in a way that was at once powerful and soothing. As he continued to rub her legs, she sighed, feeling warm air pass her parted lips. He wasn't rushing her; he was waiting. The small, wavering voice inside her told Carol this was more than lust. Despite the urgency of his need that she could feel building between her legs, she knew he would wait for her. When she realized that he cared enough to wait until she was ready, a strange sense of calm seemed to settle over her. She managed to slow her breathing and she pushed against his chest so that she could sit up. Daryl grunted softly at the feeling, all of her weight now resting over his pelvis, but he simply stared up at her, his hands still on her thighs.

Accepting the fact that this was really happening; they were really there…together, Carol, allowed a happy sigh to escape her. She ran her hands through her damp hair, tugging at it as a soft smile crept onto her face. Daryl was watching her, he seemed confused by the change taking place in her. But Carol simply closed her eyes, hands still clutching at her hair; she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and moved her hips just enough to feel the length of him press against her. Daryl's eyes slammed shut and his fingers dug into her legs. He tried to keep a low groan locked in his chest but Carol heard it, and the sound echoed in her mind. She knew then…she'd endured enough pain and cruelty…this was her chance to feel something good…something genuine, and she was going to seize it. She'd come so far and she wanted a moment, just one selfish moment to relish the feeling of the man underneath her. When her hips moved, the motion was slight, but it was enough to make her bite her own lip until it hurt. In response, Daryl's hips bucked underneath her; he couldn't control it. His body was simply reacting to hers and he needed motion. Carol was breathless when she felt him move. A sudden, crippling desire was rushing through her like fire, making the blood hot beneath her skin. She needed more. Overcome by need, want, and the changes taking place in her body, Carol kept her eyes closed and tried to savor the feeling of him underneath her…strong, hard, real. It was too much, But she was quickly becoming addicted.

Daryl continued to watch her. He was strangely fascinated with the woman above him. He couldn't tell if the moisture on her skin was rain water, or sweat. It didn't matter, he wanted to taste it either way. He saw the way her lower lip was swelling where her teeth still held it. Her hands were clutching at her hair, but he wanted them on his body…he just didn't know how to ask…even if he did, Daryl suspected he was too far gone to string those words together in a way that made sense. As the two survivors struggled silently within the confines of the tent, lightning struck, harsh and angry outside, making them both jerk. Carol's eyes flew open as she gasped, and her hands went to his chest as she braced herself. She stared at him as she took quick, shallow breaths.

The hunter didn't know what to do, it was as if they'd hit a wall and couldn't decide how to move forward. But instinct had led him this far, and he supposed it couldn't hurt if he continued to let his mind, his heart and his body make the decisions for him. Wincing a little at the nagging pain below his waist, Daryl ran his broad hands up from her thighs, to her hips; he lingered there for a second, tightening his grip and enjoying the soft flesh beneath his palms. A tiny gasp escaped Carol, and the sound served to remind Daryl that he needed to keep moving. His hands moved up, along her ribcage, up higher…until he gently clutched at her shoulders. Carol was still staring down at him, confusion plain on her face. But the hunter stayed the course, his hands sliding down the length of her slender arms until he was holding each of her wrists. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began rubbing the tops of her wrists with his thumbs, doing his best to soothe her and help her relax.

The gesture was so unexpected, so startlingly kind and tender that Carol was at a loss for words. Physical release and genuine compassion; they were things that Carol wasn't overly familiar with, and the fact that the two seemed to be overlapping here, in this moment, with this man….the knowledge was staggering. She could feel the strength of his need and the gentle, careful way he was handling her wrists. She didn't understand how someone as aggressive as Daryl could be this way. His blue eyes were fixed on hers and Carol was trying desperately to read his thoughts. As he continued to wait patiently for her, she realized what was happening.

That's it…

She was finally seeing the goodness that she'd always known was inside him, the person he kept buried beneath layers of scarred skin and anger. This was the person he'd been too afraid to let surface until now…with her. The discovery was incredible and Carol felt her eyes growing warm as she realized what it meant for him to reveal this side of himself. He felt safe with her, comfortable enough to let his walls come down… Momentarily overwhelmed, Carol sniffed and tried to blink away unshed tears.

Daryl's brows knit together when he saw the change in her expression. He watched as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Suddenly worried, he released her wrists and propped himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong?" he asked in a low whisper.

Carol sniffed again and turned her head, wiping her cheek against her shoulder. When she faced him again, there was a soft smile on her face. "Nothing…" she breathed. Before he could speak, she was bending over him, and her lips met his. As her mouth pressed against his, he eased onto his back, and she followed, her lips never leaving his. The sweet pressure was intoxicating and Daryl's hands returned to her hips, massaging her.

Carol felt as though she couldn't get enough of him. Her tongue slipped under his and the taste of him filled her mouth. Her nails were clawing lightly at his chest as she bit his lower lip. Wanting more, she sank her teeth in hard, making him gasp. Afraid that she'd hurt him, Carol pulled away. "I'm so sorry…" she breathed.

The hunter brought one hand to his mouth and gingerly touched the place where she'd bitten him. "Nah," he breathed. "It's fine…just sore."

It was then Carol remembered the bruise on his jaw that she'd seen earlier. "Oh god…" she whispered, leaning in to get a better look at his mouth. "I forgot that…I'm sorry." She carefully pulled his hand away and replaced it with her own, her fingers gently tracing the bruise. "Is it bad?" she asked.

Daryl wasn't used to anyone worrying about him; especially over something as minor as a bruised jaw and a cut lip. "It's fine." he repeated, hoping that his words were convincing. Carol stared down at him with a mix of skepticism and concern. She took her thumb and let it graze his lower lip, her keen eyes watching for any reaction. When she reached the corner of his mouth, the place where the inside of his lip had been torn by his teeth, he winced slightly. "Daryl…" she sighed. "If you're in pain, you can tell me. We can stop…"

Knowing that stopping wasn't an option, the hunter searched the recesses of his mind for the right words. He needed to make her understand. She continued to stare at him, her blue eyes focused on his mouth. Her thumb was still resting against his lips, and he was tempted to flick his tongue out and taste her. But with his need building, Daryl decided on a different course of action. He took a deep, calming breath, and then moved his hand from her hip to her stomach. His fingers inched under the hem of her shirt; he felt her skin tremble at the contact. With her eyes still locked on his, he let his hand travel up her smooth stomach. Carol shivered but didn't have the words to stop him. He kept going, his hand moving up, over the center of her bra, between her breasts, until his palm was resting over her heart. Her blue eyes seemed wider as she watched him. "Don't wanna stop," he growled softly. "Ya just gotta watch it with the bitin'."

All Carol could do was nod as Daryl used his free hand to tug at her until their mouths were millimeters apart. With their hearts pounding, and their bodies so warm and close, Carol took a second to whisper against his lips "Are you sure? About this? Is this really what you want?" she asked.

Daryl didn't say anything, he just caught her lips with his and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Carol's eyes closed as she groaned. The heat spreading through her body was amazing and she never wanted that feeling to go away. As his tongue slid against hers, tasting her, Carol's hips started moving again. She ground her core against his need and the combined feeling of his body under hers, and his tongue in her mouth, was making her crazy.

Daryl's hand slipped out from under her shirt and went back to her hip. He was gripping her hard on either side. When he felt her hips rock against his, he knew that he needed more. He wanted her to keep moving, faster, harder. With his fingers splaying over the curves of her hips, Daryl urged her to move with him, against him. When she rolled her hips, he fought back, bucking up into her, the two of them creating friction, a rhythm. Each time they ground into one another, their bodies pushing and pressing hard, they groaned into each other's mouths. Daryl's heart was beating so fast that it was beginning to unnerve him, but he couldn't stop.

Carol was mesmerized by his grip on her. She loved how tightly her held her, the forceful way that he was guiding her, showing her how he wanted her to move…how hard, how fast. The heat between their bodies was stifling, but she craved more from him. The feeling of his erection had her frustrated almost to the point of tears. She wanted so badly to bite him, but she knew she couldn't. Instead, Carol opted for kissing him as hard as she could, her tongue working desperately against his. Their hips seemed to pick up speed and she was fisting his shirt in her hands.

The friction was becoming too intense. The kissing stopped as they both gasped for air. Their chests were heaving and their eyes were locked on each other's faces. Carol wasn't sure how much more of this she could take, her body was trembling with need, but neither of them had the will power to stop the motion of their hips. Even as she stared down at him, he seemed to get harder underneath her. Sinking her teeth into her own lip, she continued to grind against him. Her breathing was shaky as she tried to speak, "Like this?" she asked as she pressed her pelvis into his hard.

Daryl's eyes slammed shut and he managed a slight nod. His hands were moving from her waist, to her hips, to her thighs…over and over, up and down as she rode him…as they moved together. Daryl felt dizzy, weak, hungry all at once. All the blood had rushed from his brain, and he couldn't even be sure of where he was anymore…who he was. All he knew…all that mattered, was the friction, and the woman that was helping to create it. It was all too much, but not enough. Gripping her hips, his fingers curled around, pressing into the flesh of her ass; he held her in place as he bucked up into her harder, and harder. He grunted with each motion, but he couldn't make himself stop. The heat between her legs was too inviting.

Carol was breathless. She felt the incredible power of the man underneath her and wanted to give in; she wanted to give him everything. She could tell that her body was surrendering to all of the sensations rioting inside her. He pushed his hips up into hers and her mouth went dry. Carol could feel the change taking place in her body as her walls began to open. This was dangerous; she knew it was, but her body was no longer her own. It was his; everything was his to do with as he pleased.

Daryl was restless; desperate for a way to release all the tension that was trapped inside him, the urgent need screaming in his veins. He needed her to help him; she was the only one who could fix it. His breaths were shallow and his jaw was clenched. He pressed himself up into her center and felt pleasure, hot and strong, rippling violently through his entire body.

More…

He was too far gone to know whether or not he'd said the word aloud, but she was working against him with fervor, her body seemingly as hungry for his as his for hers. He hissed, his fingers pressing in so hard, he knew bruises were already forming on her body, but that didn't matter. Friction mattered. It was all he needed. The next time that her hips ground against his, he jerked, bucking up hard. His grip on her hips tightened and his entire body went rigid for an instant. His heart seemed to stop beating and his mouth was open as he held her, keeping her pelvis over his.

Carol felt his body twitching and jerking beneath her and a long, low growl escaped him. Hair was plastered to his brow and his eyes were closed. She swallowed hard and watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His hands dropped from her waist. One arm lay limply at his side while he brought the other up and draped it lazily across his forehead. He was struggling to catch his breath and Carol could feel the hardness diminishing between her legs. She was having trouble processing what had just taken place, but she felt that they both needed air. Drawing on her strength, Carol carefully slid off of him and opted to lay down just a few feet away. As she lay on her side, watching him, the stabbing pain of a need unfulfilled was growing worse between her legs.

Daryl felt as though he'd had an out of body experience. He seemed lighter, almost weightless as a feeling of incredible release rushed through him, calming the storm that had been raging in his blood seconds before. He lay there, at peace, for several seconds, savoring the silence and the stillness he'd found himself in. His breathing began to slow and the steady sound of rainfall filled his ears, soothing his fevered mind. As endorphins continued to release in his brain, Daryl felt lingering effects of his climax shooting through him, like little pulses of electricity. His eyes were closed and he tried to memorize every single sensation; he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this. It was as if he'd left his pain and problems behind in some other world, and now he was suspended in some blissful purgatory…somewhere between the waking world and his dreams.

Carol watched him. Despite her own needs, that she suspected would go unfulfilled, she was happy. Glad that she could help him; he deserved to feel something good. She smiled softly in the gloom of the tent; she'd never seen that look on his face before. He looked like he'd finally let go of all the anger he'd been holding in his heart. He almost seemed younger, or as if he didn't have so much weighing on his mind anymore. She laid there, on her side, silently admiring the man she loved.

The hunter was slowly coming down from his high and reality began to creep back into his consciousness in bits and pieces. The sound of rain wasn't soothing anymore; the heavy drops seemed almost angry as they pelted the roof of the tent.

Tent…?

That was when he remembered where he was, and who he was with. The fog in his head cleared and suddenly, there was no more peace…no more weightlessness…every ounce of pleasure disappeared with startling quickness and was replaced with fear. His breathing picked up and he propped himself up on his elbows. When he stared down at the wet spot that had formed on his crotch, Daryl was filled with revulsion.

Jesus christ….

He needed to leave, to get away from her. Daryl was ashamed of his actions and he wanted nothing more than to run, but he knew he didn't have anywhere to go. The sticky, wetness that he could feel below his waist was making him cringe. His hands began to form fists, clutching angrily at the thin blanket underneath him. He knew she was there, he could see her in the periphery of his vision but he couldn't bring himself to face her.

At first, Carol didn't understand what was happening. Seconds ago, he'd been fine…he'd been happy. But now he was breathing hard and a shadow seemed to pass over his features. She could feel the anger beginning to pour off of him and then fear slithered into her chest.

No…he's upset…he feels guilty

Knowing that he was going to let his temper get the best of him, Carol tried to stop the impending explosion. She moved closer to him and reached for his hand but he quickly snatched it away. "Don't…" he growled without facing her.

Stung by the harshness of his tone, Carol swallowed hard and refused to let herself crumble. She couldn't give up, not now….not when she was so close to everything she wanted. Steeling her nerves, Carol reached for his wrist and held it firm, forcing him to look at her. She could see the hurt and anger reflected in his eyes. "Daryl," she said softly "talk to me…please?"

The hunter sighed in frustration and stared up at the domed ceiling. He didn't have the first clue how to talk to people…especially her, and especially about this. He didn't deserve the concern of someone like Carol. Her soft hand was gripping his wrist and another wave of guilt washed over him. All she'd ever done was show him kindness; worry about him when no one else cared. She'd given him the first physical release he'd had since the world went to hell and he couldn't control himself long enough to return the favor? What use could she possibly have for someone like him? Every terrible thing he'd ever thought about himself seemed to rush back into his head.

Weak…fuckin' sorry-ass piece of…..

Carol could feel his body trembling with rage where she held him. "Daryl," she said again, pulling him from his dark thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking…don't." She stared at him, waiting for her words to sink in.

"The hell you know 'bout what I'm thinkin'?" He snapped at her.

Carol didn't let his anger scare her. Instead she sighed, her thumb rubbing his wrist the way he'd done for her earlier. "Well," she said softly. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're probably thinking all sorts of things that aren't true…and you're probably beating yourself up over nothing." She was propped on her side, staring at him.

Daryl's upper lip was curling back. "Nothin'?" he growled at her.

Carol held his gaze, undaunted. "Yeah, nothing. You didn't do anything wrong Daryl."

The hunter glared at her before bowing his head; this was too much for him. "The hell I didn't.." he muttered under his breath.

She sighed, her eyes scanning the tent as she searched for a solution. "Why do you think you did something wrong?" she asked.

He looked up and glared at her again.

Carol could see he wasn't going to say the words. "What?" she asked. "You think that because you had an org…"

Daryl held a hand up, making her stop. "Just let it go" he snarled.

Instead of backing away, Carol moved closer. She dipped her head and placed a soft kiss to his wrist.

The hunter stared down at her as if she were insane. "Stop…" he growled, but some of the fight seemed to have gone out of him.

Still propped on her side, her eyes were level with his and she held the connection. "No." she said, still rubbing his wrist. "I'm not letting you do this."

"Do what?" he snapped.

"Shut down…pull away."

Daryl didn't know how to deal with any of this. He was angry, embarrassed, and he just wanted to be left alone.

Carol could see that it was up to her to fix this; she needed to be careful…to move slow. "Daryl," she whispered, "I'm glad that this happened. Glad that I could help you."

Daryl grunted in response. "Don't deserve no more of your help." he growled.

Carol moved closer, inching just behind him so her lips could reach the spot between his neck and his shoulder. "Of course you do," she breathed against his neck, making his hair stand on end.

The hunter felt a chill rush down his spine and he swallowed hard, trying to ignore her, but she was so close. "Naw," he breathed…"Couldn't even…" but the words were sticking in his throat as she kissed his neck.

"Couldn't what?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "Please me?" She gripped his shoulder, keeping him in place. She waited patiently for a response.

Her words stung and Daryl didn't know what to say.

She sat cross-legged behind him and brought both hands up so that she could rub his shoulders. Tension was building there and Carol idly wondered what it would take to relieve it.

He wanted to push her away, but he liked the pressure she was applying to his aching muscles. Needing to fill the silence, Carol started talking again. "What makes you think I didn't enjoy that?" she asked, meaning their brief tussle on the blanket. Her hands continued to work his shoulders.

Daryl hung his head, sighing. "Ya didn't…" the hunter was gnawing his already swollen lip as he struggled to come up with the right words. He was glad she was behind him; he didn't need her watching him while he admitted to his own short comings. He swallowed hard. "Ya didn't…" but it was no use; he couldn't bring himself to complete the thought.

"Finish?" she said, leaning in to let her lips rest against his neck again.

Daryl felt a uncomfortable warmth spread across his face.

"You're right," she said kissing the base of his neck lightly. "I didn't. But that's no reason for you to feel guilty. It doesn't mean I didn't enjoy being close to you."

The hunter was silent.

She stopped rubbing his shoulders and stared at his back. "Will you look at me?" she asked.

He grudgingly glanced at her over his shoulder.

"This is new for us," she said softly. "Maybe we just got in a little over our heads; that's all."

Daryl studied her, sensing that she wasn't finished.

She wrung her hands anxiously and stared down at her lap for a moment. When she felt brave enough, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Maybe, we can try again…slower this time?" she asked, feeling a flush spread across her cheeks. "I mean, if you want to." she wrung her hands again.

The hunter was confused. He didn't understand what she saw in him…why she'd want anything to do with him. Especially now. He'd failed her as far as he was concerned. But she was still there, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered…the way she always looked at him. Her opinion hadn't changed. "Ya ain't gotta waste no more time on me." he said, his voice low.

Carol's brows knit together. She couldn't believe what he was saying. "You can't honestly believe that?" she asked, incredulous.

He ducked his head in shame.

"I've never considered any of the time we've spent together to be a waste." she said.

Daryl didn't know what to say to her. He picked at a hole in his jeans and sighed. "Told ya I wasn't good at this."

Carol's expression softened. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

When he lifted his chin to look at her, he could see that she meant what she said.

"I'm here…" she said, trying to calm her nerves. "Because I want to be. I like being close to you; I feel safe with you." Carol paused to take a deep breath. "But if you really want me to leave, I will." The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Carol couldn't take it anymore. "Do…do you want me to go?"

Daryl clutched anxiously at the sheet beneath him; his palms were sweaty. "Naw."

Carol was speechless. Hope and joy began to bubble inside her and she suddenly felt light-headed. As much as she wanted to touch him, Carol was hesitant. She could tell that he was still angry with himself, and he would need help accepting what he'd done. She was willing to wait him out, to help him however she could.

Daryl had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he didn't want to leave things as they were. She deserved better than this. Flopping onto his back in defeat, he sighed and stared at the ceiling. Unsure of what else to do, Carol crawled until she was beside him and then she laid down, on her side, facing him. The hunter ran his hands over his face in exasperation. They listened to the rain, pelting the vinyl, and wished they knew what to say to one another. Laying there, in the stillness and the silence, Carol began to shiver, just slightly, but enough for Daryl to notice.

"Cold?" he asked, as he turned his head to face her.

Carol let out a nervous, breathy laugh. "A little. Guess…for a while there, I didn't really notice how wet we got." She glanced down at all the dark spots on her shirt where rain had soaked through. Daryl's shirt featured a similar pattern…there was still rainwater in their hair.

Grunting, Daryl forced himself to get up.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hang on," he said as he made his way to the opposite end of the tent. He winced a little with each step, feeling the sticky substance on his inner thigh. Ignoring his own discomfort, he crouched in front of his ruck sack and began searching his meager belongings. He pulled a faded and thoroughly wrinkled flannel shirt from the bag and then headed back towards Carol. He eased down onto his side and handed it to her. "Here; go on."

She accepted the offering, her eyes darting from the shirt to his face. "Don't you need it?" she asked.

He snorted. "I'm fine. I ain't gonna sit here 'n watch you freeze."

Carol smiled softly as she ran her hands over the worn fabric of the shirt. "You saying I should change?" she asked.

Daryl felt himself blush. "Just don't think ya need to be layin' there in wet clothes is all. Go on." He turned away, giving her privacy.

The thunder continued to roll overhead and the rain seemed to be coming down in heavy sheets, striking the roof with a pat pat pat pat sound. With a strong flush spreading over her entire body, Carol set the flannel shirt aside. She sat up and reached for the hem of her damp shirt. Before she went any further, she gathered her courage and called to him, "Daryl?" her voice was soft, nervous, but she felt the need to do this.

She heard him sigh heavily before turning back around to face her. "What?" he asked. His eyes went to her hands that were clutching the hem of her shirt.

She kept her eyes on his as she slowly pulled the wet shirt over her head, mussing her hair in the process. Carol calmly set the shirt down before bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them. The feeling of his eyes on her skin was making her warm. She was wearing a bra, and her knees were helping to conceal her, but she still couldn't help but feel more exposed than she'd ever been in her life. Carol was still shaking, but not from the cold.

Daryl took in everything…every little motion. The way her delicate fingers clutched the fabric, the slow, careful way that she moved, the way her blue eyes stayed so intently focused on his as she lifted the shirt. He saw the expanse of creamy, pale skin, her tight stomach…The dark bra that held her breasts, his eyes followed the curve of the cups, the thin straps that went up, past her collarbone and around her shoulders. He liked the way she smirked at him once the shirt had been pulled over her head; he could see that she was blushing and he liked the way her damp, messy hair looked sticking to her face. He wanted to stare, but in the next instant, she'd pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding everything from him. He watched her slender arms circle her knees and when he looked closer, he could see she was trembling.

Carol's heart was starting to thrum in her chest. She couldn't believe that she was in her bra…in Daryl's tent. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd let someone see her in her underwear. Her body had never been any great source of pride. Carol had spent her entire adult life hiding. She couldn't risk anyone seeing the bruises. More often than not, her rib cage was covered in an ugly assortment of splotches, blue, purple…then a sickly yellow as they healed. If she was being honest with herself, the only people, aside from Ed, that had seen Carol in any stage of undress, were the doctors and nurses who happened to be working late shifts in the ER whenever she drug herself through the doors, broken and bleeding…making up stories. Even then, she hated it. She didn't want anyone to see. Her late husband spent so much of his time berating her, blaming her, disciplining her…that Carol grew to loathe her own skin. She felt hopelessly flawed, and somehow convinced herself that she deserved the constant punishment. The new family she'd found in the group was slowly helping Carol to see her own worth, as a person. But her body was another issue. They couldn't fix her; no amount of kind words could erase the damage that Ed had done…with his fists…his boots… The dark thoughts were circling in her mind and Carol began to worry that she'd made a mistake. Maybe there was nothing left under her clothes, nothing worth seeing…

Daryl noticed the change. The smirk died on her lips and she turned away from him, her body still trembling. When she turned, he was left staring at her shoulder. His eyes narrowed and could see a small scattering of freckles. He was tempted to smile

Knew there were more…

But a slight movement broke the trance and he tore his eyes from her shoulder. He watched as Carol leaned forward, letting the side of her face rest against her knees. She wouldn't look at him. He could see her bicep quivering as she hugged her knees tighter. In that moment, Daryl knew that she was fighting to hold herself together…one wrong move, or one wrong word, and she could fall apart. He couldn't let that happen, not after everything she'd done for him. But the hunter wasn't entirely sure how to help her. She seemed so scared…

"Carol…" he said softly, trying not to startle her.

She sniffed quietly, hoping he couldn't hear her. When she turned to face him, her eyes were glistening. "What?" she whispered, trying to conceal the sadness in her voice.

Her expression made his chest tighten. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Carol blinked away unshed tears and ran one hand through her damp hair. "This is just…" she blew out a breath, willing herself to relax. "Harder than I thought it would be."

Daryl was propped on his side and he reached up to rub his neck. "Why's that?" he asked.

Carol nearly laughed.

He doesn't get it…

"Because…I'm…." Carol felt her eyes growing warm again as she searched for the right words.

Damaged, used, broken…

"I'm…" Her lower lip was trembling. "I'm ashamed," she finally said, her voice cracking as a single tear formed at the corner of her eye.

The hunter was unprepared for her admission. He studied her, wondering how he could possibly help. But before he could act, she was speaking again.

"I'm ashamed of what I let happen to me…what I let him do to me…" Her eyes slammed shut and she leaned forward, burying her head in her knees as her body shook.

Daryl didn't think, he simply acted. Moving from his spot, he sat beside her, his hands in his lap; he was afraid to touch her. "Ya didn't let nothin' happen Carol," his voice was a low growl. "That piece of shit you was with…that asshole…" he waited for her to look at him.

When she finally lifted her chin, she wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

"The man didn't have a goddamn right to lay his hands on ya. I don't care what ya did, what ya think ya did, or what that sorry prick convinced ya that ya did…ain't no reason for him to treat ya like that." Daryl spoke slow, making every word count. He needed her to understand. "What?" he asked. "You think just because he beat ya…that means there's somethin' wrong with ya?" His brows knit together as he stared hard at her.

Carol opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't let her finish.

"My daddy kicked the livin' shit outta me so many times I lost count… ya seen it for yourself." He tugged down the collar of his shirt, revealing the end of his jagged scar that Carol had traced the night before. "Ya seen it," he continued, releasing his collar. "And ya said it don't make ya think less of me….ya don't look at me any different." His eyes were pleading with her. "So ya had a shit life," he growled softly. "What makes ya think I'm gonna look at ya any different?"

Carol's heart was in her throat and she didn't know what to say to him. Swallowing hard and wiping at her nose, she slowly released her knees. Daryl shifted, scooting away from her just to give her a little space. She moved slowly until she was sitting cross-legged. The two broken people held the same pose, and sat across from one another in silence. Carol's arms were folded loosely across her chest, but she was trying to be brave. She had to remind herself that she was safe here, with him. She could let him in. Taking a deep breath, she let her arms fall slowly to her lap. With a thousand butterflies stirring in her stomach, Carol lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

The hunter's heart began to beat faster, but he kept his eyes on hers. His fingers were fidgeting anxiously with his jeans.

Carol could see that he was nervous, restless, and the fact that he was trying so hard to stay focused on her face was amusing. "Daryl?" she said softly.

"Hm?" he answered, his blunt nails clawing at a hole in his jeans.

She felt herself blush slightly as more warmth spread through her. With just a few honest words, the hunter had helped to change her mood, just as he always did. Carol wrung her hands and chewed her bottom lip for several seconds. "It's okay," she said, a faint smile creeping onto her face.

Daryl didn't understand, he continued to stare at her.

Carol blew out a nervous breath and smiled at him. "You can look," she said. Her heart hammering in her chest as she waited for a response, a reaction…anything.

It took a moment before Daryl was able to process what she'd said. His lips were slightly parted, and there was a crease in his brow…but when the meaning finally sunk in, his breath caught in his throat. He was still scared, and in the back of his cloudy mind, he wondered if this was some sort of test. But Carol was smiling at him, and the look on her face was making him think that she'd meant what she said. He didn't move; the hunter sat stock still, only letting his eyes wander. He was cautious, hesitant as he followed the curve of her neck, to the well of her throat…lower, to the shadowed dip in her cleavage. He took in the swell of her breasts, the dark bra that hid the rest of her. His lids were growing heavy as he continued to stare. He found himself wondering, dreamily, about the rest of her..he wanted to see her, touch her…feel that warm skin under his hands, trace the lines and curves with his fingertips. He didn't know how long he'd been staring when she finally spoke.

"Daryl?" she said, laughing lightly.

He had to force himself to meet her gaze.

Carol loved the slightly dazed look on his face and tried to memorize it in case she never saw it again. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly, her head tilting to the side as she studied him.

The hunter didn't know if it was some lingering effect of his orgasm, or the hypnotic power of the skin she'd shown him, but his brain and his mouth weren't entirely in sync and before he could stop himself, more honest words were tripping off the end of his tongue. "Why wouldn't I wanna see that?" he asked in a hushed tone, his mouth hitching into the tiniest hint of a smirk. His eyes flicked to her chest but quickly returned to her face.

Carol was in shock; of all the things he might've said… she certainly wasn't expecting to hear that. Blushing again, she brought her hand up to tug at the cross around her neck, purely out of habit. "So…" she said, knowing he could hear how nervous she was. She kept her eyes on her lap. "I guess, what I'm hearing is…you approve?"

Daryl couldn't understand why she'd be asking him such a thing.

Approve?

In that moment, Daryl was convinced that he'd never approved of anything more.

Approve is the wrong fuckin' word….

When she finally looked at him again, Daryl just smirked at her and answered with a slow nod. Carol closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands as she tried to contain all of the nervous laughter threatening to spill from her.

Jesus…what am I doing?

She ran her hands over her face, pushing them up into her hair. The action lifted her breasts and she felt Daryl's eyes on them. It was a thrill she knew she'd never be able to describe…the way it felt when he looked at her. They watched one another; the only sound coming from steady rainfall on the roof. Even in the gloom of the tent, Carol could see how his blue eyes were growing darker. Something about the way he was staring at her…it was unnerving Carol. He looked hungry, and she wanted to him to have whatever he needed from her. The laughter from moments ago died in her chest and she knew what she had to do. Swallowing hard, she slowly began to reach around to her back.

Daryl sat up straight, the hairs at the base of his neck standing on end when he saw what she was doing. He was so anxious, and he didn't know what to do with his hands. He decided to let them splay on either side of his body, fingers spreading over the thin fabric of the blanket. His heart rate was speeding up again.

Carol knew that if she looked away, she would lose her nerve. So she tried to control her breathing and kept her eyes locked on his. Her fingers were shaking when they curled around her bra clasp.

You can do this….it's just him…you and him

But she was still scared, and she fumbled with the clasp. Her breathing was becoming shallow, and sweat was breaking out at her temples.

Daryl could see she was struggling. He wasn't sure what drove him, but he knew he needed to help her. Crawling in Carol's direction, he stopped when he was directly in front of her. He was on his knees and his eyes found hers as he silently asked for permission. All she could manage was a shaky nod. He was so close to her. Their faces were inches apart as he leaned in, reaching around to her back. He gripped her wrists and gently pulled her hands down. She followed his lead, letting him guide her. Her palms splayed at her sides while she waited for him to act. Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, Daryl returned his hands to the strap at her back. With the tip of his tongue resting between his lips, he began working at the clasp. He grunted softly, trying in vain to remember the last time he'd done this. Carol wasn't helping; her blue eyes were trained on his face, distracting him. But he needed to focus. Suddenly, the hunter remembered the trick. He let one hand drop to the ground to rest near Carol's, while the other still held the strap. Carol's brows knit together as she watched him, her eyes questioning. But Daryl simply stared back at her, a look of smug determination on his face. With one hand, he squeezed the two ends of the clasp together. Almost instantly, the ends sprang apart, making Carol gasp.

Her hands flew to her shoulders, holding up the straps. Daryl sat back on his heels, waiting for her next move. He drummed his fingers on his thighs and glanced at her face. She was staring at him as if she couldn't believe what he'd just done. "What?" he asked in a low growl. "I was jus' helpin'."

Carol's lips were parted as she studied the man in front of her. She wanted so badly to kiss him, but she made herself wait. She'd been right about what she'd said before. They needed to go slower. Feeling painfully awake and alive, Carol gripped the thin straps of her bra and slowly slid them down her arms.

Daryl watched her fingers with intense focus.

Before she could allow herself to overthink the action, Carol let the bra fall away from her body. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins, and goose flesh rose suddenly on her arms. She couldn't help her reaction; it was instinctual…automatic. She quickly tucked her hands under her arms, hiding herself from him. Her body started to tremble.

The hunter caught a fleeting glimpse of her, but then her arms were in the way. She looked scared again. Daryl needed to see her…he had to. He reached for her shoulders, gripping them gently. He kept his eyes on hers as his hands traveled down to her biceps. He paused at the crooks of her elbows, waiting for her to say something, but she didn't. So he kept moving, his fingers reaching her wrists; he tugged softly, urging her to move. Swallowing hard, Carol let him lower her arms. She closed her eyes and her hands formed nervous fists. All she could do was wait for his reaction.

Daryl was at a loss. It had been so long since he was with a woman, and he knew that it hadn't been anything like this. This was more than flesh…more than need. This was another shaken soul, someone he'd fought alongside of…someone he'd bled for. Daryl only knew a fraction of the horrors she'd witnessed…he couldn't begin to imagine all the rest…the things she hadn't told him. But despite everything she'd been through, the losses she'd endured and all the senseless hurt that had been inflicted on her, she was here. She was here, with him, trusting him. She was beautiful.

All of the tragedy and violence in her life…it hadn't touched her here. He stared at the perfect, smooth, pale skin…the two swells he never thought he'd actually see. The soft curves, skin like cream…dusty, pink nipples that he wanted to taste. A few light freckles scattered between her breasts. He spent several seconds trying to count them, but he got lost…his mind going hazy. Knowing that he would never rest until he knew what she felt like, Daryl reached up hesitantly with one hand…he was shaking, but he licked his dry lips and made himself touch her. The second his palm hit her skin, Carol gasped, her eyes flying open. Daryl shuddered, his eyes closing. He cupped her breast, the flesh filling his hand perfectly, his fingers flexing lightly, savoring the incredible contact. She was so warm… Her skin still slick with rain water…

Carol had never felt anything like it; his touch was so welcome, so wanted. He gripped her gently, as if she might break…his palm and fingers squeezing her lightly, just enough to make her heart beat faster. Carol's hands flew to his hair, clutching at him, pulling him closer. The two fumbled together until Carol was sitting in his lap, her legs locked around his waist. They were both breathing hard as they stared at one another.

Daryl glanced down at his hand on her breast; his mind struggling to process what he saw.

"It's okay," she breathed against his lips. "I want you to."

The hunter ducked his head, hiding in the crook of her neck while his hand massaged her. His other arm circled her waist as he tried to keep her as close to him as he could. The feeling of her in his hand was stirring something inside him.

Carol's hands were in his hair as she kissed the side of his neck. "Please," she breathed against his skin, "Please…" She clawed desperately at his scalp.

He gripped her harder, his thumb brushing her nipple, making them both hiss. She was filling his hand, but it wasn't enough. Growling into the crook of her neck, he brought his other hand up so that he could hold both of her breasts at once. He groaned hard when he felt the two swells pushing back against his palms. He rubbed her, squeezing, touching, feeling, tracing her nipples, making them tight. Daryl wasn't sure when he'd started with the biting but suddenly her skin was between his teeth; he was sinking into the same piece of tender flesh at the base of her neck. While his hands hungrily massaged her breasts, his mouth sucked at her neck, making her shiver. She felt his warm, heavy breaths, his tongue flicking out to taste her, his mouth applying such incredible pressure that she could feel herself getting wet. His strong hands on her body were only making things worse and she had to fight the urge to rock her hips against his.

As Daryl ran his hands over her curves, over and over, memorizing them, loving the feeling of her nipples pressing into his palms, he realized he needed more. He eased back, just long enough for his eyes to meet hers. His gaze was startlingly intense and it burned into Carol, making her core tighten. She didn't know what was coming next, she didn't have time to ask…before she could think or speak, he ducked his head again, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. They both moaned, and it was all Carol could do to hold him in place against her chest. She wanted to scream, but the sound was locked behind her lips. Her entire body seemed to tingle and she thought she might faint.

Daryl sucked hard and felt her legs tighten around his waist. She was tugging sharply at his hair, urging him to explore and play. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest but he didn't stop. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of her, letting his tongue swirl slowly around her nipple; he never wanted to give up the taste. He held her flesh between his teeth, making her gasp. Daryl only released her to move to the other breast. When his mouth closed around her a second time, Carol clawed at the back of his neck and bucked against him. He snarled against her, biting the side of her breast.

"Fuck" Carol breathed into his hair. Her hips still moving, seeking hardness.

The hunter knew what her body was craving, and he wanted to help her; he wanted to give her whatever she needed. The feeling of her under his tongue was helping and he let the urgency course through his blood, filling him with terrible hunger. He sucked at her breast once more before letting go. When he pulled back, it was only so that he could resume massaging her…the flesh now slick with his own saliva. He was grunting every time he squeezed her, his eyes slammed shut tight. Daryl couldn't believe how soft she was. He loved everything about this…the size of her breasts, the shape, the way they fit so perfectly in his hands, making him feel that her body had been made for this…to be touched. There was something so satisfying about squeezing her and hearing the sounds she made in response. She gasped and whimpered into his neck, and her hips continued to move against him. As his thumbs brushed her nipples, Carol's hand formed a fist in his hair and she started panting into the crook of his neck. Suddenly, it all seemed to overwhelm him…the warm shallow breaths hitting his skin, the way her body was wrapped around him, her scent, her breasts in his hands, her taste lingering in his mouth…the fact that his touch was having such an intense effect on her…everything seemed to collide inside him. Her fist in his hair sent a jolt of electricity through his body, and hot blood poured itself into his groin, making him growl.

Carol was too lost to notice the change taking place in her partner. All she knew was how his hands felt on her body. Her eyes were closed and she wanted to memorize the way it felt when his fingertips traced her curves. She was arching her back just enough to push herself against his hands, inviting him to take whatever he wanted from her. Whenever he tightened his grip, Carol couldn't help but to feel that his hands belonged on her body…strong, warm… She never wanted him to let go. There, in the gloom of the tent, lost in a stifling heat that she never knew could exist between two people, Carol seemed to forget everything else. As far as she knew, the world outside had fallen away… There was no fear, no death…nothing, only the pleasure that this man was bringing her to. She could feel her body moving on its own, her legs gripping him so tightly, as if he might disappear at any moment, her core pressing down into his lap…she just needed to be as close to him as she could. So she clutched at his damp hair, pulling with a force that echoed her body's hunger. The growl that came from him was the best sound she'd ever heard…it was all so maddeningly perfect, and then something changed.

She sucked in a sharp breath of air, her eyes opening as she felt his body coming to life beneath her. It was slight at first…his body just beginning to stir, but Carol needed more and she was tired of waiting. Half-crazed with want, she gripped his neck and bit into him hard, her mouth sucking at his flesh, the way he'd done for her.

Daryl ducked his head suddenly and snarled against her shoulder, his grip tightening on her body.

Carol sucked at his neck for a moment longer and then pulled back. She could see the dark red marks she'd left, and idly wondered how long it would take for them to turn purple. But she didn't have time to think about it; the pain she'd inflicted on him was having the desired effect; he was getting harder, his need building beneath her. The change was coming on strong and sudden and Carol began to worry that she wasn't prepared. She knew that there was no turning back; they couldn't stop now. But she found that the slight fear only served to exhilarate her. More adrenaline coursed through her frame, heightening her arousal and she was doing everything she could not to scream. Carol clutched at his hair, tugging weakly, loving the way he hissed in response.

Daryl was fascinated, lost in the softness of her body, his hands massaging her roughly. There were moments, when she gasped or whined, and he worried that he'd hurt her…but his fears were quickly dispelled as she arched her body into his hands, urging him to keep touching her. Her hips continued to rock against him, and she was pulling his hair, her shallow breaths warm in the crook of his neck. He was growling softly into her shoulder, nipping at her every so often, the tip of his tongue flicking out to trace the marks he'd made. He felt her shiver each time his teeth connected with her skin, and her body's reaction was making him rigid beneath her. His breath seemed to catch as she bucked against him and the heat between her legs was making him weak; grunting, he bit down hard on her shoulder, his hands squeezing her breasts. She moaned, pulling his hair, her eyes closing, and Daryl was beginning to lose control. It was all too much; she was everywhere…seemingly all around him, her smell flooding his senses and the taste of her skin lingering in his mouth. His groin was becoming painfully tight and he was suddenly afraid.

Not again…

His heart was thudding hard in his chest, and he could feel sweat forming on his skin. Everything about her was incredible and he wanted to keep touching, tasting, feeling…but he knew that they couldn't keep going. He couldn't let himself disappoint her again. Breathing hard, he slammed his eyes shut. His hands remained on her breasts, but he stopped massaging her. He pulled away, easing back from her as he tried to calm down.

Carol didn't understand what was happening. Breathless, she let her hands slide from his hair to rest on his chest. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. "Wh...what….are you….doing?" she managed to say between breaths.

It took Daryl several seconds to process what she'd said. The intense, nagging pain below his waist was demanding attention and it took every last ounce of his will power to release Carol's breasts so that his hands could go to her hips, stopping the motion.

She didn't want to stop. Her body was moving on its own; hips slowly grinding against him as she savored the feeling of his erection underneath her. But when his strong hands gripped her hips, she finally stopped altogether. "Wh…why?" She asked, a crease forming in her brow as she stared at him.

Daryl had to take several deep breaths before he could answer. When he eased his eyes open, he could see the concern on her face. "Gotta stop.." he said, the words coming out as weak growls.

Carol's lips parted; she didn't understand. "But…I thought you….I…" she wasn't proud of her next words, but she couldn't stop herself from saying them. "I can't…" She almost pleaded with him.

The hunter gently rubbed her hips as he stared at her. "I know…it ain't that I don't wanna…" he said softly. He let his eyes wander over her body, her chest, her shoulders and then back to her face. "It's just…" he brought one hand up to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. "This here," he said, eyeing her body again, "It's a lot. 'N this…" he gripped her hip and bucked against her, just enough to make a small gasp escape her. "That there's dangerous," he growled under his breath. When their eyes met again, she was intently focused on him.

"I…I don't understand." She whispered.

Daryl released a heavy sigh as he tried to puzzle out what to say to her. He'd never been very good at expressing himself verbally, and having a half-naked woman in his lap wasn't helping. He chewed his lower lip for a moment and a hint of color was beginning to show in his face.

Carol could see the change in him and her hands slid up his chest to rest lightly on his shoulders. "Daryl? What is it?" she asked softly.

He sighed again; he needed to tell her something. "Before…" he said, his voice hushed.

Carol didn't understand. She simply stared at him, a crease still deepening in her brow.

The hunter hated that he was having to explain this to her. "I ain't tryin' to reach that finish line again…" he said under his breath. The admission had taken a toll on him and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze anymore.

Carol's lips were slightly parted, and she blinked a few times, trying to extract the meaning from his words. "The finish line…?" she said, almost to herself.

After several heartbeats, he felt that he needed to say more. He just wanted her to understand. So he took a breath and forced himself to look at her. "Not without ya." He was gnawing his lip again, waiting for a response.

In the next instant, Carol's brain made the connection, and her expression softened. It was her turn to blush. "Oh…" she breathed.

Daryl couldn't believe what he'd said to her…or that any of this was actually happening. Part of him wanted to hide from her, but he knew he couldn't get far, not now.

Carol stared at him; he was looking away. She could see how hard it had been for him to tell her that. Concern and guilt were etched into his features and he'd brought his thumb to his mouth so that he could chew his nail out of habit. Amazed by him, by how honest and considerate he was being, Carol couldn't help but smile at him. Her eyes were fixed on his face until he finally had to look at her.

"What?" he asked.

Carol gently pulled his hand away from his mouth so that she could thread her fingers with his. It was almost natural, the way his fingers fit between hers, the way they locked together. She stared at their joined hands for a moment, trying to process what she saw. The only other time that they'd held hands was during Patricia's burial. It meant something then, and Carol wondered if it meant even more now. Now that they were completely alone, wrapped up in each other, each of them wanting and needing the other. She applied a bit of pressure, savoring the feeling of his warm grip. Carol knew what it meant then. It meant they were together, if only for the moment; they were together, and they would do whatever they could for one another. Wondering how her feelings for this man could continue to deepen at such an alarming rate, Carol smiled again, her eyes refocusing on his face. "So," she said softly. "The finish line huh?"

Daryl had to stifle a groan as he blushed harder.

"Daryl, relax." she said, chuckling lightly. "I get it."

He snorted.

"No, really. I do. I'm just not used to it….to anyone worrying about it." she added.

The hunter took a deep breath and made himself look at her. He figured at this point, they were past hiding. He needed to be open, honest. "Well," he growled softly shrugging his shoulders. "I ain't used to worryin' about it."

They stared at one another, each of them feeling as though they understood the other. Carol tightened her grip on his hand. "I think we can do this. You can do this." she said, her voice hushed.

The sound of those whispered words leaving her lips made his temperature rise again. "Ya keep talkin' like that, I'm gonna cross that damn line without ya." he growled as his other hand resumed massaging her hip.

Carol smirked at him before ducking her head to kiss the crook of his neck.

His body jerked slightly and he hissed. "Quit," he pleaded with her." The hunter was trying, and failing, to sound mad.

Carol was startled by the immediate, and very noticeable effect that her simple kiss had on him. When her lips pressed against his neck, she felt him twitch underneath her. Aroused, nervous, she eased back and studied him. "Guess you weren't kidding…" she whispered, her eyes on his.

"Hm?" he gripped her hip just a little harder.

"You really do wanna stop, don't you?" She whispered, even softer this time.

Daryl swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. "Don't wanna…" he murmured, "I gotta."

Carol didn't know what to do. Her body was already aching for him, and her desire only intensified when she realized that he was nearing a second climax. She loved that she was having this effect on him. Witnessing his orgasm, and the pleasure it brought him, had been incredible. She was eager to help him reach that peak again, but she couldn't ignore her own needs…the terrible, empty feeling in her core. Carol wanted to please him, but she was afraid of sending him over the edge too soon. Pulling her hand from his, she wound both arms loosely around his neck, her fingers playing absently with the ends of his hair. "Maybe we don't have to stop…" she said softly.

He licked his lips and tried to stay calm.

"Maybe," she said, leaning in so that her mouth hovered near his. "We can just go slower…" she whispered. Biting her lip, and staring at him with hooded eyes, Carol let one hand slip from his neck, down to his chest, fingers running over the fabric of his shirt, lower…past his stomach, until she was reaching down between their bodies and her fingers barely brushed the bulge in his jeans. She stifled a moan and had to keep herself from easing back on his lap, just so that her hand would have better access to the hardness she sought.

Don't….

She had to fight with herself. Carol knew, that as much as she wanted to feel him…hold him in her hand, neither of them were ready for that. So she settled for staying the way she was; her core pressing down on his need.

Daryl's mouth opened and his eyes closed when he felt the slight touch of her fingertips near his groin. More blood rushed below his waist and he felt himself get harder. He shuddered, quickly reaching for her hand and pulling it away. When her fingers were back in his hair, and his sweating palms were gripping her hips, he made himself speak. "Slower…" he breathed

Carol nodded, "Slower." As soon as the word fell from her lips, she tugged at his hair, bringing their mouths together. They collided, enjoying the pressure. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and sucked at it, savoring the taste. She gripped his neck, kissing him long and hard, her tongue moving with his. She loved slipping her tongue past his, probing, exploring his mouth while he explored hers. As the kiss continued to intensify, and soft groans filled the tent, Daryl felt himself throbbing…When her tongue pushed against his, forceful and hungry, he began to drip.

No….No…Can't….not again….

Knowing that he was seconds away from letting go, Daryl brought one hand to her chest and gently pushed her back. "Stop…" he panted, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

Carol was lost as she stared at him. "What….do we do?" she asked between breaths.

"Need….to move," he managed, damp hair hanging in his eyes.

Afraid of setting him off, Carol eased their bodies apart. She was weak with want and already missed the warmth of his lap. Breathing hard, she fell onto her back and ran her hands through her hair. With raised knees, Carol stared up at the domed ceiling and tried to get herself under control. Without him near her, she felt exposed….her bare breasts lifting each time she pulled a labored breath into her lungs. She was tempted to cover them, out of habit, and one hand moved towards her chest…but then Carol bit her lip, reminding herself that she had nothing to hide from him….not anymore. So she settled instead for letting her hand rest over her belly, fingertips lingering over the c-section scar that he'd traced the night before. Anxious, she lay on the thin sheet and waited for him to act…to speak.

But Daryl didn't know what to do. He could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, his body eager for a second release. As much as he craved her body…her touch, the friction that would drive him towards another orgasm…the hunter couldn't allow himself to lose control. If he was struggling, and in pain, even though he'd already climaxed once before, he knew she had to be suffering too. Daryl couldn't claim to know exactly what she was feeling…what she was going through…but he imagined that she must be hungry for release. He closed his eyes, held his head in his hands and hissed through gritted teeth. He just wanted to be enough for her, to help her the way she helped him.

You're overthinkin' this….it's jus you 'n her….that's all…Ya both want it…

Daryl was right; he was thinking too much. This was supposed to be about feeling…not thinking. But he couldn't help it. He was concerned about her. He'd never been one to consider the needs of others, at least not anyone he'd ever slept with. It was a difficult truth to accept, but the hunter needed to make peace with himself…all the things he'd done, mistakes he'd made… This was a chance for him to change, and he didn't take it lightly. The woman lying in his tent meant something to him, and she deserved comfort. He wanted to give her something real…a genuine connection, but he wasn't sure he knew how. Afraid and overwhelmed, he blew out a long breath and carefully eased down onto his side.

Carol caught the movement in the periphery of her vision; she heard him grunt as he laid down on his side, facing her. She turned her head so that she could meet his gaze; they were both still working to catch their breath. After several seconds of silence, Carol licked her dry lips and voiced the question that was burning in the back of her skull. "So…we stopped. What do we do now?" Her fingers were drumming lightly on her belly.

Daryl stared at her as his breathing began to slow. "Don't know…" he said softly. The side of his face was pressed to the sheet and hair was hanging in his eyes. "Jus…" he swallowed hard, "Didn't wanna…"

"No…" Carol whispered, stopping him before he could say it. "I know…it's okay." she smiled at him. "I like that you cared enough to stop. No one's ever…..cared…before." Her eyes were open, honest, and she hoped he understood the meaning behind her words.

Daryl knew that she was trying to comfort him, but the brief glimpse she'd just given him, into her romantic past, only added to the mounting pressure he could feel building in his mind. She wasn't used to anyone worrying about her…what she might need, or crave. He wanted so badly to give her everything that she needed, but he was afraid.

A shadow seemed to pass over his features and Carol could sense his reservations. Sighing softly, she lifted the hand that was resting on her stomach, and reached out to run her fingers along the length of his arm. "Daryl…" she whispered. "This," her eyes scanned the tent before returning to his face. "Being here, with you…" she paused, searching for the right words. "It's incredible." The smile was still on her lips, and Daryl could see that she meant what she said.

He chewed his lip for a moment, considering her words. "Ya sure 'bout that?" He growled softly.

Carol nodded, her smile widening.

Daryl lowered his gaze, focusing on a small hole in the sheet beneath them. "I'm thinkin' it could be better…" he said, his voice hushed…almost as if he were speaking to himself.

Carol's chest tightened; she hated seeing him like this. There was absolutely nothing for him to feel guilty about, but she sensed that he was having an internal argument with himself. She needed to do something; the only way they would get through this was by helping one another. "You know something?" she asked as she moved, turning onto her side so that her body faced his.

Daryl looked up, his eyes going to her breasts for a second, but he made himself focus on her face. "What?" he asked.

She chuckled lightly when she saw his eyes go to her chest. "You're right…this could be better." she said.

The hunter's brows were knitting together.

Instead of explaining herself in words, Carol let her hand slip from Daryl's arm. She curled her fingers around the hem of his shirt and slowly started to tug it upwards. The hunter tensed and reached down to stop the motion of her hand. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Daryl swallowed hard and tried to figure out how to answer her. She was staring at him, her blue eyes clear and curious. She propped herself up on one elbow and waited for him to answer, but the words weren't coming. Scooting just a bit closer to him, Carol sighed. "It's alright," she said, her voice so soft that she wasn't sure he'd heard. But then his eyes found hers and they held the connection. She could see that he was scared, but she didn't understand why. "I…" she had to force herself to finish the thought. "I just want to see you…" she whispered, her heart beat speeding up a little.

Daryl stared back at the woman he'd already shared so much with. He'd told her things that he'd never told another living soul…things only Merle knew. He'd shown her the terrible, jagged truth…the anger etched into his skin, in raised lines. And now she was here, in his tent, offering herself…she was willing to let him in, to give him everything, and he was hiding from her.

Naw….

She deserved more from him. Closing his eyes and summoning all of his courage. Daryl made himself sit up. Carol's hand fell away from his shirt hem and she watched him in silence. Sucking in a sharp breath, the hunter gripped his shirt with shaking fingers and pulled it off in one quick motion. He sat in the tent, his body trembling and his eyes still closed. His hands were fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The hunter was lost in his own thoughts and he didn't hear Carol moving. Blood was rushing in his ears, and he began to wonder if this whole thing had been a mistake, but before the doubts and fears could ensnare him, he felt Carol's hands resting lightly on his shoulders; his entire body tensed at the contact and he gasped, his eyes flying open.

"Shh; it's okay. It's just me." She whispered, her mouth at his ear. She was kneeling behind him, her hands traveling along his shoulders, fingers kneading the muscles as she reached the base of his neck. Daryl's body began to relax as her fingertips continued to explore. He loved the way that she was working his muscles and he sighed, hanging his head. Carol took the opportunity to move her thumbs down to the spot between his shoulder blades; she pressed in hard, loving the soft groan that came from him. "Good?" she asked.

The hunter nodded.

Carol smiled behind him, her thumbs traveling down, applying pressure along the length of his spine. Something close to a whimper passed Daryl's lips and Carol wondered if anyone had ever done this for him….touched him like this. She didn't flinch when her hands came into contact with his scars, she simply accepted them as part of him. She loved Daryl….every scar, every tattoo…every inch of skin. The more her hands worked at his body, the more she craved closeness. Inching towards him, she moved so that her lips were barely grazing the back of his neck. She felt him shiver at the contact, but her fingertips were still applying wonderful pressure to his back, and she knew that he didn't want her to stop. She let herself breathe against his skin, a faint smile on her lips.

"What're ya doin'?" Daryl managed to ask as his head hung low.

Carol kissed the spot between his shoulder blades and whispered. "Just enjoying this…being close to you."

The hunter could feel his mouth going dry. Everything this woman did…everything she said seemed to bring him pleasure….comfort of some kind. He wished that he could put his feelings into words…tell her everything that was churning inside him. What she meant…what this meant to him, but he couldn't.

Wanting to feel as much of his skin as she could, Carol slowly moved her hands to his hips. She took a moment to massage him, the way he'd done for her earlier. She heard him groan and then she was moving again, her hands snaking around to the front of his jeans. She carefully clutched at his waistband and paused, whispering against his back. "Is this alright?"

Daryl's gut was twisting as he stared down at the small, pale hands resting just below his navel. She was tugging absently at his belt and he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Licking his dry lips, he brought his shaking hands to hers and pulled them gently away from his waistband. "How 'bout…." he said, the words sticking in his throat. "You go first?"

Carol's hands went to her thighs as she knelt behind him in silence. But he didn't give her long to think about the request. In the next instant, he turned, glancing over his shoulder so that he could see her. Carol blushed when his eyes found hers. Damp hair was sticking to his temples and a few dark strands had fallen in his face. His lips were turning up into the slightest trace of a smirk, but what really struck Carol was the way that this man was looking at her….the way his eyes narrowed, focusing entirely on her. She could feel her insides quivering and it was then that she understood what he was asking.

Me first…

Swallowing hard, she eased down onto her back slowly. Daryl turned, his body twisting so that he could watch her. Nervousness was getting the best of Carol. Her chest began to rise and fall with her rapid breathing and she knew that he was taking in every little motion, every detail. She raised her knees, trying to block him out; his eyes on her body were making her uneasy. But Daryl wanted to see. He moved so that he was kneeling at her feet, his strong hands gripping her calves. She could feel the tension in the way that he held her, and idly wondered if either of them could handle this next step. Sweat was breaking out on her skin as her hands hovered over her waistband. The hunter stared down at her; he could see how scared she was. His expression softened and he began rubbing her calves. "Go on," he said in a hushed tone. "Please."

The soft way he spoke, the loving way he touched her legs and the intense focus of his eyes…it was all making Carol weak and she realized that she couldn't deny him. Fresh adrenaline was coursing through her blood, pooling in her fingertips and making them shake as she fumbled with the button on her pants. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and she froze when she felt the button slip through the hole. They stared at each other. Daryl's eyes roamed from her hands, to her tight stomach, up and over the perfect swells of her breasts and finally to her face. His expression left Carol speechless…there was a staggering blend of lust, concern, and curiosity reflected in his blue irises. Knowing that she couldn't stop now, she gnawed her lip harder and tugged her zipper down slowly. In that moment, Carol could've sworn that everything was fluttering inside her. Her movements were slow, careful, despite her sweaty palms and shaking fingers. When her zipper was finally down, she could feel Daryl's eyes on her waist. He was staring at the panties that were partially revealed behind her open zipper. Emboldened by the desire she could see in his eyes, Carol moved her hands back to her waistband and began to ease the pants down. Before she could make too much progress, she froze. Staring up at Daryl, she bit the corner of her bottom lip and pleaded silently with him.

Even though the blood was rushing quickly from his brain, the hunter retained enough awareness to know what she wanted. He cleared his throat and tried to focus as he leaned forward, his chest hitting her raised knees. He reached around her legs, his fingers gripping her hips. As they stared at one another, both breathing hard, Daryl clutched at her pants and tugged gently. Carol lifted her hips, helping him as he continued to pull the fabric.

Daryl's heart was hammering hard in his chest as the pants slipped down her thighs. He froze for a moment, admiring her panties. When he glanced back up at her face, he could see her blushing crimson. He knew he must be blushing too, there was an uncomfortable warmth spreading across his face. Carol was still on her back, staring up at him. The feeling of his fingertips grazing the skin of her legs was making her crazy. "Keep going…" she breathed, licking her lips.

The hunter let his eyes linger on hers for a moment longer, but then he remembered what he had to do. He continued to tug at her pants, easing them along her pale thighs, up to her bent knees, then down….sliding the fabric to her ankles. Carol could feel goose bumps rising quickly on every inch of exposed skin.

The hunter was so distracted by her panties and her legs that he grew confused when the fabric didn't just slip off the ends of her feet. He gave a gentle tug, but something was in the way. Carol propped herself up on her elbows so that she could see what he was doing. She saw a crease form in his brow as he stared down at her ankles and continued to pull, without success. A chuckle burst suddenly from her lips and she had to cover her mouth with one hand.

Daryl looked up at her suddenly, his face flushed and his eyes questioning.

"Daryl…" she said, trying to keep herself from laughing again. "My sneakers…"

Feeling like an idiot, the hunter bowed his head for a moment and blew out a breath. When he lifted his chin, he could see her smiling at him. Snorting, he moved his hands to her left foot and began fumbling with shoelaces. As he bent lower, to focus on his task, he caught her scent…the one that was all her…that came from her. His groin tightened and he suddenly found himself wanting to touch the place between her legs…to feel the heat he knew he would find there. He must've gone into a temporary daze because seconds later, Carol was nudging him with her foot, reminding him of his task. Daryl stared down at the laces and they seemed to taunt him.

Screw it…

With one hand gripping her calf and the other clutching the heel of her sneaker, Daryl jerked hard, tearing the damn thing off her foot. She was giggling again, but he didn't care. He was determined to get this done. He slipped her sock off and immediately moved to her right foot, repeating his actions. He stumbled back when her second sneaker came off and Carol couldn't stop the nervous laughter that was bubbling up from inside her. But with her feet finally free, Daryl righted himself and grabbed her pants, yanking them down. She helped him by kicking her legs as he worked the fabric down to the ends of her toes, finally pulling it off completely. When the damn pants were gone, Daryl took several minutes just to run his hands up and down her legs, slowly at first, then faster as his need continued to build. His fingers curled around her ankles and slid up, following the curves of her calves, squeezing the sweet spots behind her knees, then moving down roughly, palms gripping the flesh of her thighs.

His touch was maddening, and each time he ran his hands down along her thighs, Carol had to bite back a moan. She couldn't hold herself up anymore; she fell onto her back, submitting to him. Daryl could see the effect he was having on her, and he liked it. His eyes were fixed on her dark blue panties and he felt himself starting to drip again. Carol's eyes were closed as she savored the incredible feeling of his fingers behind her knees. As much as Daryl wanted to touch her…to reach out and tug at the skimpy bit of fabric that was hiding her sex from him, he knew he wasn't ready. He was dangerously close to letting go and he didn't want to disappoint Carol. Drawing on more willpower than he'd ever known he had, Daryl released her legs and eased down onto his side, next to her. He was breathing hard as he stared at her.

Carol moved onto her side and faced him, a smile on her lips. It was exhilarating to be so exposed with him…so free. The way he was looking at her made her feel beautiful. She was propped on one elbow, watching him watch her. Daryl might've been worried before…about staring too long, or making her uncomfortable, but his previous reservations were gone. He wanted to see her…all of her. He wanted to stare, to admire, to memorize everything. So he let his eyes linger on her chest; he took in the amazing curves of her breasts, her pink nipples, the light dusting of freckles just above the dip in her cleavage. He was tempted to lean into her, to run his tongue slowly up her chest, between her breasts, but something else caught his attention. The hand that was resting on her hip slowly began to push down the fabric of her panties. But she only pushed it down enough to reveal a hint of pale flesh on her hip. Confused as to why she'd stopped, Daryl's eyes returned to her face and he could see her smirking at him. She was teasing.

"What's it gonna take?" he growled softly.

Carol chuckled, her fingers still clutching the fabric at her hip. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"Them." The hunter glanced quickly at her panties, but then his eyes were narrowing as he stared at the damn smirk on her mouth. "What's it gonna take to get 'em down?"

Carol was having trouble processing what he'd said. She couldn't believe how brazen he'd become, but she supposed it was her own fault; she'd purposely teased him. The fact that he was unafraid to ask such a question only served to heighten her arousal. Feeling desire rip through her body with an intensity that burned, she moved closer to him, until only inches remained between them. Biting her bottom lip, she stared at Daryl. "You wanna know how to get them down?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.

All he could do was nod.

"Well," she said, her hand reaching out to touch his stomach. She felt him tremble at the contact, but he didn't try to stop her. "I think you owe me one." the soft words fell from her lips as she used one finger to follow the thin line of dark hair below his navel. She stopped at his waistband, her eyes trained on his.

Daryl was tempted to take her hand, and slip it down the front of his pants; the jeans were big on him, it would be easy for her to get inside…to feel him. He could tell, by the way that she was looking at him, that she craved contact as much as he did. Suddenly, his hand was moving…his fingers closing carefully around her wrist. But he kept himself from forcing her into his jeans. That would only result in short-lived, one-sided gratification. Even though he could feel his body throbbing, he knew that he couldn't rush her…he couldn't rush any of this. He had to hold back...if it took every last ounce of his will, he would hold back for her. Tugging at her wrist, he brought it to his lips, nipping it softly and then kissing it.

The tenderness unnerved Carol, and then he was pulling her towards him; she let him move her body until it was dangerously close to his. Needing contact, she brought one leg up, slowly sliding it between his, only stopping when she was just below his groin. Daryl hissed at the feeling of her leg brushing his. "You're overdressed.." Carol whispered.

The hunter smirked before nipping her wrist again. She brought her leg up higher, just brushing his crotch. Daryl reached down, gripping her leg and stopping the movement. "What's wrong?" she asked, a teasing tone to her voice.

"Nothin'," he growled softly, his hand now running along her thigh to rest on her hip. "Jus wanna stay like this for a minute."

Carol was at a loss. Moments ago, he'd been trying to get her panties down…and now he was refusing to shed anymore clothes…he seemed content to lay there with her, his broad hand traveling back down from her hip. She was confused. Her thoughts must have been written on her face because Daryl was speaking again. "Ain't that I don't wanna…" he said, his fingers gripping her thigh. "Jus…." he bowed his head for a moment, thinking. "Jus tryin' to understand."

Carol's brows knit together. "Understand what?" she asked.

"All this." His eyes roamed her body before returning to her face. "What it means." His voice was hushed.

"What it means?" she echoed.

He let his hand travel along her side, following the gentle curves of her body, his fingertips mapping out the skin. "Ya said nobody ever cared…'bout gettin' it right…least," he paused, hoping he'd understood her. "That's what it sounded like you was sayin'." He felt himself blush again, but he made himself look at her.

Carol studied him as if he were speaking some foreign language. "Yeah…" she said hesitantly. "But I don't see what that has to do with…."

He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers; the kiss was sudden, soft…and Daryl was easing back before she could even register what had taken place. "I'm tryin' to get it right…" he growled, his voice low.

Carol felt her entire body get warm. The thought entered her mind then, that Daryl wasn't just talking about an orgasm. He wasn't purely concerned with the physical outcome of their time together. Something about this…the way he was being with her…the moments of unexpected tenderness, it was making her think that he cared about how she was feeling…emotionally, mentally… She focused on his mouth, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. But as she moved in, he gently pushed her back.

"Naw," he said softly. "Not yet."

Carol was sure she'd never been more physically frustrated in her life. "Then when?" she asked.

He smirked at her. "Jus talk to me for a minute."

Carol couldn't believe that Daryl Dixon was putting off further physical contact so that the two of them could have a heart to heart. They were lying half naked, alone in his tent, and he wanted to talk.

Now of all times….

"What did you want to talk about?" she breathed.

He was enjoying the notes of frustration in her voice. "Jus you." he said.

Carol blinked, confused. "What about me?" she asked.

Now that he was lying so close to her…so much of her skin on display for him, and her eyes trained on his face, he wasn't sure what he intended to accomplish with this conversation. He was looking at her bottom lip, remembering what it felt like to bite it.

"Daryl?" she said.

"Hm?" He propped himself up on one elbow, his fingers going to his hair as he stared at her.

"Something you wanted to talk about?" she asked, her fingers drumming on the sheet beneath them.

The hunter remembered then; he had reason for all this. There was a reason he was still partially clothed and her panties were still on. Daryl never considered physical release to be anything more than a necessary part of life. It was just a natural hunger that needed to be satisfied from time to time, preferably with warm, willing flesh. But that's all it had ever been, as far as he was concerned; flesh. He'd never really thought of his partners as anything other than convenient vessels. But this was different. There was more to this woman than the warmth between her legs. Daryl had always figured that when the lights were out, women were the same; their anatomies didn't vary all that much, at least it didn't seem so to him. There were very few parts of them that mattered to the hunter and when it came down to it, the functionality was the same. But as he lay there, staring at Carol, he realized that those thoughts were all wrong. When he looked at her, he didn't just see a vessel for his own release…he saw an entire person, a friend, and now she was something else. He wasn't exactly sure what he should call her…but he supposed that being with her, being close to her was enough. She mattered, plain and simple. Her body, her name…who she was…it all mattered. Daryl wanted her to experience so much more than a climax; but before he could go any further, he wanted to understand her body, to know everything that she was feeling.

"Daryl…" she said again, pulling him from his trance.

He blinked, trying to refocus. "I….I jus…." he sighed, trying to finish the thought.

"What?" she asked softly.

"I wanna make sure I'm doin' this right." he said; he looked away as color came to his cheeks.

Carol didn't know what to say. The fact that he was so concerned made her chest tighten a little. "What makes you think you're not?" she asked, studying his face.

The hunter sighed again before looking at her. "I ain't never put a whole lotta thought into this before…"

Carol could feel her heart thrumming steadily in the confines of her chest, but she was doing her best to stay calm. "Well…I guess most people would argue that this isn't the kind of thing that requires a lot of thought, but…."

"It does." he said, cutting her off.

"Alright," she said slowly. "So what is it you're thinking about?"

"You." he answered.

Carol sighed, feeling like they were going in circles. "What about me, Daryl?" she asked, trying not sound impatient.

"I wanna know what you're feelin'." he growled softly, eyes intently focused on her.

She stared at him, a small crease forming in her brow as she tried to puzzle out the meaning behind his words.

"Go on," he urged, "Tell me."

But she didn't have the first clue on where to start. Her lips parted and she hesitated before uttering the only words that came to mind. "I'm happy."

A faint smile was creeping onto Daryl's face. "Alright; why?" he asked.

Carol smiled back at him. "You. You're making me happy."

The hunter nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "What else?" he asked.

"What else?" she echoed, chuckling lightly.

He nodded again.

"Well…let's see." she fell onto her back, hoping to get her thoughts straight; it was difficult to form proper sentences when Daryl was so close…staring at her. She brought one hand up and ran it through her hair. Turning her head to face him, she smirked. "I'm frustrated."

Daryl snorted. "Thought ya said you was happy."

"What?" Carol asked, "I can't be both?"

It was Daryl's turn to chuckle, the husky sound coming from deep in his chest. "Kay," he said. "Why are ya frustrated?"

She could feel her body getting warm all over. "A few reasons…" she laughed, blushing. Carol ran her hands over her face, trying to hide the widening smile on her lips.

Daryl was amused by the effects his questions were having on her. "I wanna hear 'em." he said, his voice low.

When she glanced at him, she could see that he wasn't playing. His eyes were getting darker and they were completely focused on her. And suddenly, she couldn't contain her thoughts any longer; the honest words were coming, unbidden, to her lips. "I'm frustrated…" she breathed, "because I want you to touch me…and you won't."

The hunter's heart was starting to pound just a little harder, but he had to keep going. He waited her out, sensing that she had more to say.

"I never thought I'd be this close to you," she said. "And now that we're here…all I can think about is you touching me." Her voice was shaky.

His eyes flicked to her hand that was forming a fist at her side, her fingers starting to claw at the sheet underneath her. "That bad?" he asked, glancing at her fist again.

She followed his gaze, and seemed to realize for the first time that she was clenching the fabric in her hand. Carol swallowed hard and nodded.

The hunter chewed his bottom lip for a moment, wondering if he should stop all this and just collide with her.

No…

He needed to hear her; he needed to know everything that she was thinking and feeling. His eyes narrowed, and the smirk left his face as he stared at her. He wasn't teasing, and he wasn't playing. Daryl had questions that he needed her to answer.

Carol saw the change in him and it made her breathing pick up. She didn't know what was coming next.

He continued to stare at her, the tip of his tongue flicking out to lick his chapped lips for a second. His own blunt nails began to claw at the sheet as he spoke. "It hurt?" he asked in a low growl.

The look on his face was enough to make Carol wet, but his question made everything inside her tremble. "What?" she breathed, nearly choking on the word.

Daryl glanced at her panties before refocusing on her face. "Lyin' there..waitin' on me to touch ya." he growled under his breath.

Carol answered with a quick nod, afraid of what she'd say if she tried to speak. Her chest rose and fell with each breath and she could feel Daryl's eyes roaming her skin.

To say that the hunter was intrigued would have been a massive understatement. The moment he saw her nod, in response to his question, he felt his groin tighten. Daryl had never been an expert when it came to the opposite sex; he didn't possess any in-depth knowledge of their anatomies, or what their bodies experienced during states of arousal…But something about the way her breathing patterns changed, and the way her small hand was gripping the sheet so tightly, made him think that she was uncomfortable….or parts of her were. The idea of her being in pain sparked something inside him. He knew that it wasn't the same pain that came with injury or loss…it was a sensation that mirrored his own discomfort…the pain of a need unfulfilled. Daryl knew, as he watched her knuckles turn white from the way she gripped the sheet, that this was the sort of pain that kept a person awake, and alive…hungry. His breathing had picked up, and he could feel his mouth going dry, but he needed to keep going. "What's it feel like?" he asked, licking his lips again.

Carol didn't know how to answer him. She'd never had a conversation like this…and she figured he hadn't either. These were things that people didn't say out loud. She wasn't prepared. Years of being bound to a dominating, abusive man, convinced Carol that her feelings and needs were unimportant…that she should either keep them to herself or forget about them entirely. Even when she was alone with her thoughts, carnal desires made her feel guilty. But things were different now. She was in a safe place, with someone she cared about…someone who cared about her…and he seemed to be genuinely interested in everything she was experiencing. Carol pulled a deep breath into her lungs and figured that if he'd taken the time to ask the question, he deserved an answer. She stared at him, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her whole life. It wasn't just her body that was laid bare for him…she was offering him a window into her mind…her heart…letting him see everything she wanted and needed. "It feels like…" She chewed her bottom lip, trying to force herself to speak.

Daryl could see how difficult it was for her to say the words; he reached out and let his hand rest over hers, urging her to relax and release the sheet. "It's alright…" he whispered, "Go on."

She felt braver with his strong, warm hand covering hers. With her eyes locked on his, Carol offered up an honest answer. "It's a stabbing pain." she said, her voice hushed.

The hunter's brows knit together as he tried to understand. "Stabbin'?" he echoed softly.

Carol nodded. "like sharp pangs, over and over…" she explained.

Daryl was having trouble processing her answer. A crease formed in his brow and he looked concerned, but Carol smiled softly at him, easing his fears.

"It's fine," she whispered. "Just my body's way of telling me that I need you." She stared into his eyes, waiting for a response…a reaction.

The hunter had to remind himself to keep breathing. He couldn't believe that she was sharing such intimate details with him. Before he could stop himself, more words were tripping off the end of his tongue. "Where?" he breathed.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Where's it hurt?" he growled softly.

Carol felt herself blush again. She bit her lip and fought to contain the nervous giggle in her chest. "I think you can guess…" she said.

"Naw," he said, shaking his head. "Show me." He moved suddenly so that he was kneeling beside her.

Carol was scared. As much as she wanted Daryl, the voice in the back of her head seemed to convince her that she wasn't ready for this next step.

Too much…too soon…

The words echoed in her skull, and fear was twisting in her belly…but in the next instant, Daryl was bending over her, his lips pressing softly into hers. The kiss was soft, long, warm…his mouth lingering on hers. Their lips didn't part, and their tongues didn't meet, but it was incredible just to hold the connection. Carol loved touching him, and being touched…but knowing that he'd been the one to initiate the kiss somehow made it that much better. She almost wished that she didn't have to breathe, just so that she could keep her mouth close to his forever. She was too lost in the feeling of his lips to notice that her hands had moved into his hair. She was gripping him, keeping him close to her.

The hunter was hovering over her, loving the feeling of her soft lips pressed to his…he wanted to do everything in his power to make her feel good, but in truth, the sudden kiss wasn't as innocent as it seemed. He had an ulterior motive. While his mouth continued to linger on hers. He let one hand move lightly over her skin. His fingertips grazed the flesh just below her breasts before moving lower, traveling down her stomach until he reached her panties. Carol froze when she realized what he was doing. She gripped his hair and pulled back, giving them both a bit of breathing room. Her brows knit together, her eyes questioning him.

Daryl glanced down at his hand, at the fingers that were splaying near the top of her panties. When he refocused on her face, he couldn't help the slight blush that came to his cheeks. He felt as though he'd been caught doing something wrong and he didn't know how to explain himself.

As she stared at the man she loved, Carol was sure no one had ever looked more guilty than Daryl did in that moment. There was something so sweet, so endearing about the shame that was evident on his face; Carol had to smile at him. "Wanna tell me what you're doing?" she asked softly, her eyes flicking down to his hand.

The hunter tried to look away, but she brought a hand to his face, letting it rest gently against his cheek as she forced him to meet her gaze. Their eyes met, but he still wasn't speaking.

Carol ran her thumb slowly along his jaw. "What?" she asked in a whisper. "Thought you could distract me with this?" she leaned forward suddenly, pressing her lips to his. Daryl groaned in response. She savored the contact for several seconds and then eased back. "Thought you could just keep kissing me and I wouldn't notice this?" Her hand reached down to rest over his.

He was still on his knees, part of his body hovering over hers. When he glanced down at their hands, he felt the sudden need to slip his fingers down further, under the fabric of her panties. But he fought the urge and returned his attention to her face. "Jus wanted ya to show me where it hurts…." he whispered back to her.

The sound of those hushed words made Carol's core ache.

Daryl started running his fingers along her c-section scar, the way he had the night before. He could tell, each time he traced the scar, that Carol's reservations were disappearing. Her skin trembled at his touch and he knew that she was so close to giving in. He just needed to keep pushing her. Leaning down again, he placed a soft kiss to the center of her chest. He heard her suck in a sharp breath. When he pulled back, his eyes were intently focused on hers. "Show me…" he repeated…

Swallowing hard, Carol propped herself up. Her eyes stayed on his as her shaking fingers closed around his wrist.

Daryl grunted softly, realizing that this was finally going to happen. He fought to remain calm while she tugged at his wrist. Feeling more anxious than she ever had in her life, Carol moved his hand, guiding him until his fingers were hovering over the crotch of her panties…she held her breath, waiting for him to touch her, but he didn't. Confused, frustrated…nervous, Carol squeezed her eyes shut and released his wrist. She let a heavy sigh escape her as she eased down onto her back and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

The hunter watched, strangely fascinated by her struggle. The anticipation was proving too much for her, and Daryl liked that. He liked the fact that he could have such an intense effect on her. But she wasn't the only one struggling. It was taking all of his will power not to touch her. Realizing that he needed to act, Daryl moved until he was kneeling at her feet. Carol could hear him shifting but she kept her eyes closed.

Curious and hungry, Daryl gripped her legs, his strong fingers curling around and digging into her calves. He could still feel some tension, lingering resistance in her body, but she wasn't strong enough to stop him. He tightened his grip and eased her legs apart slowly.

Carol's knees were still raised and her breath caught in her throat when she felt Daryl separating her legs. He only parted them enough to see her face. He saw the way her hands were pressed to her eyes, but he didn't want her to block him out…he wanted her to see…to know. When her long legs were slightly parted, Daryl eased down onto his belly, resting between them…his hands idly massaging the backs of her thighs. He was so close to her…to the most intimate part of her..Daryl couldn't help but wonder if all this was really happening.

He'd been digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs for several minutes before she got the courage to open her eyes. When she looked down, and saw him…resting between her legs, Carol felt herself get wet. She couldn't control her body's reaction. She propped herself up on her elbows and continued to stare at him, her chest rising and falling with every breath. "Wh….what are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Daryl kept his eyes on hers as he smirked slightly and turned his head to kiss the inside of her right thigh. The simple action made Carol's body tingle and she had to hold back the whimper threatening to burst from her lips.

The hunter thought he'd be able to tease her by placing a soft kiss to her thigh, but the moment his skin connected with hers, he knew it wasn't enough. Her scent was everywhere and it was making him crazy. Without thinking, he bit into the tender flesh, tasting it…making Carol gasp.

"Jesus!" She said through clenched teeth.

Breathless, Daryl released her and refocused on her face. "Hurt?" he asked, his eyes suddenly fearful.

Carol swallowed hard, collecting her thoughts. "It hurt…" she admitted. "But it's a good pain…like the stabbing" she said in a hushed voice.

Daryl could barely process what she was saying to him. But when she mentioned the stabbing, he seemed to remember the reason he was lying in between her legs…well, there were several reasons. He licked his dry lips and let his hand fall away from her right thigh. She was staring down at him, and he stared back at her as he slowly began to reach out to touch her panties…but he couldn't let himself do it. He paused, with his hand hovering over her.

Carol couldn't stand it anymore. She needed to feel him, and she wanted him to feel her. She needed the contact. Steeling her nerves, Carol whispered to him. "Touch me."

Daryl gnawed the corner of his lip and studied her. "Sure that's what ya want?" he asked in a low growl.

She swallowed hard and nodded.

The hunter carefully let his hand rest over the top of her panties; it would've been so easy to just grab hold of the fabric and yank it down, but he controlled himself. Instead, he simply savored the fact that he was touching her, and that she'd asked him to. He ran his hand over the fabric a few times, getting used to the feeling. Every little movement seemed to burn Carol and she was tempted pull the damn panties down herself. She didn't know how much longer she could wait. Her thigh was beginning to tremble where he held her. But just as she was about to speak, she felt the motion of Daryl's hand stop. He stared at her as he slid his hand up her body. He shifted, inching closer to her. Carol could only watch as he moved, advancing until his hand reached her breast. He gripped the flesh, making her suck in a sharp breath of air. Daryl was still lying between her legs, but he'd moved up her body. With one hand holding her breast, and the other supporting his weight, he dipped his head to kiss her stomach.

Carol couldn't believe what was happening…what he was doing to her. She barely had a chance to savor the feeling of his strong fingers curling around her breast before his lips met the skin just above her belly button. She gasped again, her hips bucking on instinct. Daryl kissed her stomach again, loving the way her skin seemed to tremble. He brushed her nipple with his thumb, and was rewarded with a whimper. Intoxicated by the smell of her skin, Daryl was tempted to keep his lips pressed to her stomach…he wanted to lick her, suck at the skin until he left a mark, his grip on her breast tightened, but then something changed.

Carol's body was screaming for him and everything inside her seemed to be rioting. Hungry, impatient, she sat up suddenly, her hands going to his hair. He was breathless as he stared at her; she used her grip on his hair to keep him in place. "Daryl…" she said, her voice shaking.

The hunter's hands moved so that they were splayed on the ground, on either side of Carol. He felt her legs press in around him, trapping him. Her gaze was intense as she focused on him; their faces inches apart. "What's wrong?" he asked, licking his chapped lips afterwards.

Her fists unclenched, her fingers threading lovingly in his damp locks. She stared into Daryl's eyes, her heart beating faster and her skin growing hot. "I need you to touch me." She whispered, not bothering to hide the urgency in her voice.

The sound of that hushed plea echoed in the hunter's ears and he knew then…as her blue eyes burned into him, that he had to listen. He had to please her…however he could. With parted lips, he gave her a slight nod and tried to remember to breathe.

Sensing that he understood her, Carol released him, and fell onto her back. Swallowing hard, Daryl began to ease back down her body. Needing to feel her skin, he placed one sweaty palm flat on her stomach and let it slip lower…fingers splaying. His breathing picked up as his hand moved; he let his middle finger dip into her belly button and she hissed. But the hunter couldn't stop. He continued to drag his hand down her body until it was resting over the top of her panties again. Carol's hips bucked slightly when she felt his hand so close to her sex. Daryl was right back where he'd started, on his belly, slightly propped on his elbows, between her legs. He pulled a deep breath into his lungs and realized that he was becoming addicted to her scent. His fingers flexed lightly and Carol groaned.

Daryl wanted everything. He wanted to violate her, collide with her, make her feel things she'd never felt before; he wanted to tease her until she was coming undone. Feeling as though this woman had woken something inside him, Daryl drug his middle finger slowly, down the top of her panties…right down the center until he felt a small nub through the thin fabric. Carol's teeth immediately sunk into her lip and her small hands clutched desperately at the sheet beneath her. "God…" she moaned softly, her eyes closed.

The hunter knew he'd done something right. His groin throbbed but he had to remind himself that this was about her…for her. With narrowed eyes trained on her body, Daryl experimented by circling that nub with his middle finger…just small, light circles with the tip of his finger…his lips parted in awe when he saw her hips rise. Carol was breathing harder, her body moving in time with the circles he made. It wasn't enough for Daryl; he wanted to hear her. He started pressing in harder, but then Carol's voice broke the trance.

"Lower…" she breathed.

The hunter listened. The time for hesitation was gone. He quickly slid his finger down from the small nub, along the crotch of her panties, but he wasn't prepared for the sensations that would accompany his movements. The second he'd moved lower, he noticed the change in temperature…the heat between her legs was stifling now, burning through the fabric…and his finger blazed a trail down to the most intimate part of her body, only to find that her panties were damp…alarmingly so. Daryl knew, instantly, that the wetness had nothing to do with sweat or rain water…and the thought left his mouth dry. His erection was growing painful as he remained on his belly, smothering his own need.

Carol needed him to move. She groaned and bucked her hips, urging him to touch her. He had one strong hand gripping her thigh while the other was lost in the warmth between her legs. He was cupping her sex, his thumb brushing the damp spot on the crotch of her panties…over and over, stroking it…relishing the feel. Daryl felt drugged as he pressed in just a little harder with his thumb, feeling more heat…more wetness. Carol's knuckles were turning white where she gripped the sheet and her hips were bucking slowly each time he applied pressure to her crotch. She needed him inside her, but she didn't know how to ask…she didn't know what words to use. Unable to contain the longing that was driving her insane, Carol arched her back and groaned, pushing her sex down into his hand. "Touch me…" she pleaded, her eyes still closed.

They were hungry for each other, and Daryl realized that he didn't need further instruction. Grunting, he pushed the crotch of her panties aside quickly and let his thumb travel down the slickness. "Christ…" he breathed, unable to keep the curse from tripping off the end of his tongue.

Carol's mouth was open, her back still arched as she struggled to process the feeling of his thumb gliding down her slit. He was so close..so very close to being exactly where she wanted him. All he needed to do was push one finger into her, but she couldn't speak. She felt her walls opening, her core growing wet all over again.

Daryl was in an absolute daze. He was gripping her thigh so hard that he knew bruises were forming under his fingertips, but he couldn't help it. His other hand was occupied…exploring heat and moisture. He was playing, teasing…letting his fingers move along the length of her slit, delighting in the wetness he found there. But her hips were still moving, and he could hear her strained breathing.

She wants more….

With his heart pounding painfully in his chest, and blood rushing in his ears, Daryl used his middle finger to explore until he found the source of the wetness. He knew he'd hit the right spot when he heard Carol hiss and felt her entire body jerk. But her hips didn't slow; they continued to rock, inviting him in. Holding his breath, Daryl closed his eyes and pushed, easing the very tip of his finger inside her. Almost instantly, he was overwhelmed by the slickness, and the way the tight, muscular ring of her entrance clamped down around him. He had to fight to maintain control. As he lay between her legs, struggling…the hunter heard her voice, breaking through the haze in his mind.

"Daryl…please…" she gasped.

That was all it took. Daryl felt all of his carnal desires rushing to the surface, like sudden aggression, and he clenched his teeth as he shoved his middle finger inside her.

The second he began slip into her core, Carol growled, tilting her hips up, rocking to take him deeper.

"Naw," Daryl breathed, his eyes slamming shut as he felt her warm, wet walls surrounding his finger. Her muscles were clenching, clasping him…as if she could keep him there…and he couldn't take it. With ragged breaths passing his lips, Daryl withdrew his finger, though her body was loathe to let him go.

The sudden emptiness was unbearable and Carol thought she might cry out of sheer frustration, but the air was stolen from her lungs as he pushed his finger back into her core. The motion was forceful and Carol's body began to twist and writhe in response. She just wanted him to stay; she wanted to keep that hardness inside her for as long as she could, her body craved it.

Daryl opened his eyes; he wanted to see the effect he was having on her. There were beads of sweat forming on her skin, and her nails were clawing at the sheet beneath her. Her mouth was open as she groaned, and her walls were gripping him hard. Out of sheer curiosity, he curled his finger insider her.

"Fuck…" she gasped, her back arching again.

It was Daryl's turn to groan. He slipped his finger free again and studied the shining wetness that covered it…but he wasn't finished with her. Without warning, he pushed into her again, curling his finger as soon as he was inside.

Carol was slowly going crazy. As amazing as his finger felt…she knew it wasn't enough. She needed him…all of him. Relishing the feeling of him for just a second longer, Carol summoned her strength and forced herself to sit up.

The sudden movement startled Daryl and he pulled his finger from her core. He didn't have time to process what was happening before Carol leaned forward, gripping his shoulders. Her nails dug in and she was pulling him up, towards her with a strength he didn't know she possessed. Hungry for one another, the two collided. Carol pulled his mouth to hers and they began to taste each other, tongues sliding against one another, lips parting, allowing entry. "Daryl," she breathed against his lips between kisses.

He grunted in response, his teeth catching her bottom lip.

"I can't wait anymore…" she whispered, her hands at his temples.

Daryl's palms were flat on the floor, supporting his weight as he leaned into her, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Carol couldn't stop him. She didn't want to. Kissing him was like nothing she'd ever experienced. The way his mouth moved against hers, the feel of his chapped lips, the scruff on his chin tickling her…the taste of him in her mouth..his tongue, strong and warm, rough and wet, exploring… He almost seemed lost in the act, and Carol was getting lost with him. It was as if he wanted to devour her…like they couldn't get enough of each other. She felt him suck her bottom lip and a soft moan escaped her. When he finally released Carol, he could see that her eyes were glazed and her face was flushed. He knew then that the blood had rushed from her brain as well. Grinning at the fact that he'd put that dreamy look on her face, Daryl kissed the side of her mouth and let his forehead rest against hers. They stared at each other for several seconds, each of them panting. But Carol meant what she'd said…she couldn't wait anymore. Knowing that she needed Daryl more than her next breath, Carol gripped his shoulders and pushed hard, forcing him to move until he was on his back.

The hunter could barely register what was happening. He was staring up at her as she loomed over him. On instinct his hand flew to the back of her neck, gripping her and pulling her down towards him. He brought her mouth to his and kissed her hard, his free hand going to her ass, squeezing the flesh. Carol gasped against his lips and her hips ground down onto his erection. He bucked underneath her, making her core tighten. Knowing that she couldn't let herself get caught up in his hot, wet, passionate, almost aggressive kisses, Carol pulled away from him and tried to catch her breath. Daryl's hand fell away from her neck, but he continued to massage her ass. Needing to focus, she reached back and grabbed his wrist, wrenching him away from her body. Daryl's narrowed eyes were trained on her, but she didn't let up. Huffing, she grabbed both of his wrists and leaned forward, pinning his arms above his head. She held him in place, her eyes burning as she stared down at him.

Carol was straddling his chest and he couldn't help but fixate on her breasts. She was leaning over him, and the soft swells were so close to his face. Without thinking he leaned up just enough to take one of her nipples into his mouth, groaning at the taste. Carol shuddered and fought to keep her fingers locked around his wrist so that she could keep his arms pinned. But the feeling of his hot mouth wrapped around her was incredibly distracting. She could feel more sharp, stabbing sensations in her center. He was licking…sucking, his teeth grazing her…she finally had to hiss at him. "Daryl…stop."

His tongue slid across her nipple once more before he let go and eased back so that he could stare up at her. There was a smirk on his mouth and he seemed incredibly intrigued by the forceful way she was holding him down…his arms still pinned above his head. Carol smirked back at him. "It's good…really good," she admitted. "But I think I can make it better."

Daryl's head cocked to the side and he studied her.

"What?" she breathed. "You don't believe me?"

The hunter just smirked at her.

That damn look on his face was making the ache between her legs build. "Just stay still…" she said.

Daryl snorted. "Fine."

Carol slowly released his wrists; she expected his hands to reach for her the second he was free, but the hunter was true to his word…lying perfectly still as he watched her.

Satisfied with his cooperation, she eased off of his chest; she could feel his eyes on her ass as she moved. Blushing, she crawled until she was kneeling at his feet…taking the same pose he had earlier. Her deft fingers were making quick work of the laces on his boots and it wasn't long before she was pulling them from his feet. She was careful with his injured foot, tugging gently to avoid irritating his slightly swollen ankle.

Daryl's heart continued to pound. He knew what was coming, but he didn't know if he could handle it. Carol was slowly slipping his socks off the ends of his toes. She took a second to grip his feet, rubbing them. She smiled at him, her face still flushed and he couldn't help but smile back. A nervous giggle came from her, and Daryl thought it might've been the best thing he'd ever heard. Despite the obvious physical hunger coursing through both of them, Daryl knew that there was more to this than lust. When her thumbs pressed into the soles of his feet, driving out soreness, he felt a strange pang in his chest. She was so kind….always. Everything she did…everything she said made him feel good…better. No one had ever rubbed Daryl's feet, and he found that he liked the feeling. Carol squeezed his left foot, working from the heel to his toes. "Good?" she asked.

Daryl groaned in appreciation, his toes flexing as she rubbed them. She smiled again, her face lighting up as she watched him close his eyes in pleasure. She worked at the other foot for a moment, making him growl softly. While his eyes were still closed she reached for his belt. But he sat up quickly when he felt her knuckles brush his stomach.

"It's alright…." she whispered, leaning in to place a quick kiss to his lips. "Let me do this." she pleaded softly.

Daryl swallowed hard, his palms splaying at his sides. His legs were spread and Carol was kneeling between them. He gave her a slight nod, his eyes going to her hands that were clutching his belt. Carol moved slowly, carefully, knowing that the wrong move could send him over the edge. She held her bottom lip between her teeth and focused. Her nimble fingers worked the worn leather of the belt through the buckle. She could feel Daryl's stomach trembling. Truth be told, she was just as nervous as he was. She'd never done this before… Ed was always the one in control; he decided what came off, and when. Carol had grown so used to closing her eyes during the act…pretending that she was anywhere else while he took what he wanted from her, she couldn't even summon a clear memory of what he'd looked like…not that she wanted to. But she wasn't overly familiar with the male anatomy…her experience had been limited. And while she knew that Daryl couldn't possibly disappoint her, she was unsure of what to expect. This was all so foreign to her…to both of them. But she remembered the way it felt to grind against the hardened length of him…and she had to see for herself. She wanted to see the part of him that had already brought her so much pleasure. There was a soft clinking of metal as she handled the buckle. They both gasped as she yanked the leather, pulling it through his belt loops in one fluid motion. Smirking at him, she tossed the belt over her shoulder. Daryl's pupils were dilated and he looked terrified, but Carol wasn't about to abandon her quest.

"Hey," she said softly.

His eyes found hers but he didn't speak.

"I know you're scared…So am I. But we can do this." she insisted. "It's just me."

Daryl closed his eyes and gave her a shaky nod.

"Just try to relax." she whispered as her fingers moved to his zipper.

The hunter was exhaling through his nose, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

Hoping that she wasn't making a huge mistake, Carol began to tug his zipper down. His erection was straining against his jeans, and Carol started to worry that she was going to hurt him. Her hands fumbled and she stopped. "M…Maybe…you should take it from here?" she said.

Daryl blinked, confused. But when he glanced down at his groin, he understood. The last thing he needed was for the zipper to catch him…just the thought was enough to make him wince. Grunting, he flopped onto his back. He pulled a deep breath into his lungs before reaching for the zipper. As he tugged gently at the tab, and listened to the sound of the tiny, metal teeth separating, he realized that he'd never been this nervous in his life. It made sense. Sex was usually something that took place in bars…dimly lit bathrooms, where the girls were content to have their faces pressed against the stall doors while Daryl stood behind them. The back seat of his truck at 4 am…five minutes of groping in the dark…. It was never personal…it never meant anything, and he'd never really let his partners get a good look at him. He preferred it that way. Dark was good; he didn't need anyone seeing his scars…asking questions that he wasn't prepared to answer. Daryl Dixon didn't want to forge connections with the girls he'd been with. Release was all he'd ever needed.

But this was different, on every level. Carol was a woman, not a girl. He couldn't hide from her. He didn't have the luxury of anonymity and there was no darkness to conceal him. They were together, nearly naked, in the middle of the damn day. She was going to see all of him. He supposed he could try and take the easy way out; he could stick to what he'd always been comfortable with and take a position behind her…but something about that bothered him. Not that he wouldn't enjoy it, but he wanted to look at her, see her face…know what she was feeling. As if the thoughts churning in his skull weren't enough, another fear surfaced, making his hands freeze on his zipper. As he'd already admitted to Carol, he'd never taken his partners' needs into consideration. His own gratification was all that ever mattered, and it usually didn't take long for him to hit his peak. He cringed at the thought that he'd never lasted more than a few minutes. His eyes found hers and he stared at her face…the smile on her lips, the color in her cheeks. He wanted so badly for this to last more than five minutes.

Carol bit the corner of her lip and smirked at him. "You gonna make me wait forever?" she teased.

Daryl blew out a breath. He thought back to the way her skin felt, the slickness of her core…the incredible pressure of her walls around him. He'd been inside her…and here he was, scared to take his damn clothes off. She'd let him touch her…the least he could do was lay his cards on the table. She wanted to see him, and he let that thought fill his head.

She wants to….

The words gave him the strength he needed to keep going. He continued to tug at the zipper, the sound seeming so terribly loud in his ears. He sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to push the jeans down on his hips. His erection was finally free and Daryl had to close his eyes…this was all too much.

Carol's lips parted in awe as he revealed himself to her. She wasn't even sure how to describe what she saw. All she knew was that the sight of him was making her ache, and she couldn't help but to imagine what all that flesh would feel like inside her. He lay on his back, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes…the faded jeans low on his hips. Carol wanted so badly to grip him…hold him in her hand, but she feared the contact would prove too much. So she settled for admiring the flesh she'd so often wondered about. His eyes were closed; she could take a moment to stare. He was breathing hard, his cock twitching slightly. Carol considered running her smooth palm along the shaft…stroking him…but she knew she couldn't….at least not yet. It occurred to her that he wasn't even naked yet, and she wanted to see all of him…as much skin as she could. Unconcerned with whether or not the action would startle him, Carol reached for his jeans and slowly began tugging them down.

Daryl propped himself up on his elbows and made himself look at her. He was blushing badly but Carol simply looked up and smiled at him, acting as if there was nothing out of the ordinary taking place. "Wanna help me?" she asked, her knuckles grazing his hips as she tried to work the pants down. Daryl grunted, lifting his hips enough for her to slide the jeans down his ass. She had to keep herself from moaning or staring when the rest of him came into view. Despite her lack of experience, and the very sheltered life she'd lived before the world fell apart… Carol couldn't help but think that he was amazing. She supposed that this was what women meant whenever they described a man as being well endowed. There was absolutely nothing about him that she would change. The length, the thickness…every last detail was making Carol's core hurt and she worried that a union might not be possible, given their respective proportions, but she was certainly willing to try. She had to remind herself to keep working at his pants; she got them to his knees, with help, and then slid them down his shins. Carol could see how nervous he was, and she wondered how long it'd been since he was naked in front of a woman.

Daryl was terrified. He didn't know what to do now that he was completely exposed. He wanted to retreat, hide….but there was nowhere for him to go. They were sitting across from one another; the only sound came from the rain pelting the roof. Carol could see that he wasn't going to move; she decided that she owed him one…since he was naked and she was still technically, partially clothed. Biting her bottom lip, she smirked at him and reached down to clutch the fabric of her panties. Daryl's insecurities were forgotten as he focused on her hands. Feeling warmth spread through her, Carol quickly slipped her panties off and discarded them. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, stifling a nervous giggle.

Her body began to quiver with trapped laughter and she finally had to give in. Carol bowed her head, hiding her face in her knees and the chuckling started. Daryl was so lost. He stared at her, a crease forming in his brow. His mind was still trying to process the fact that her panties were gone. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and he had to say something. "Why ya laughin'?" he asked in a low growl.

Carol's body shook as more laughter burst from her lips and she reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "Because this is ridiculous" she said.

Daryl was silent; he wasn't entirely sure what was happening.

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "We're naked…" she laughed. "In the middle of the day…" She gestured outward with one hand, as if indicating the world around them.

The hunter had to admit…she was right. The whole thing was absurd.

How did we get here?

Of all the things that this day could've held in store for him…he certainly hadn't counted on a naked woman being one of them. But there she was…as real as anything…living, breathing, sitting right across from him. It was so surreal and Daryl found himself chuckling along with her. He ran a hand through his messy hair and tried to figure out what in the hell he was supposed to do now. While he sat there, ruminating….Carol took the opportunity to glance at him. He was looking idly around the tent, as if it held an answer for him, but Carol was focused on something else. She was taking in all the details…his shoulders, his flat stomach, the trail of dark hair below his navel…that lead to his cock. Suddenly, the laughter seemed to die in her chest, and all she could think about was how all of his exposed skin would feel…pressed against hers. She was so lost in her admiration of him that his voice nearly made her jump.

Daryl eventually noticed that she wasn't laughing anymore, which caused him to refocus on her. The blood froze in his veins when he saw the way she was looking at him…not at him….his body.Daryl didn't know that women looked at men that way. She was looking at him the way he looked at her….like she really, truly wanted him. It was a bit unnerving at first, and the hunter felt terribly exposed with her eyes on him. But the longer she stared, the better Daryl felt. His nervousness began to disappear and was replaced with something close to confidence…maybe even pride? He was amused by the fact that it was his turn to interrupt her. "Carol?" he said. He smirked when he saw how startled she was.

"Hm? What?" she asked, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt. Carol was starting to wonder if her cheeks were permanently pink. She couldn't recall a time when she'd even come close to blushing as much as she had in the last half hour, with Daryl. Her arms were still wound loosely around her raised knees.

Daryl didn't know what was coming over him…moments ago he'd been petrified of her seeing him naked…but now he was intrigued by her interest in him. He ducked his head for a second, gnawing his lip. When he lifted his chin, his narrowed eyes were focused on her. "Guessin' you approve?" he said, echoing her words from earlier. He knew he must be blushing, but he had to ask her….he wanted to hear the words.

Carol wasn't going to bother with excuses…he caught her staring at him, and there was a good reason. He was fun to stare at. She'd probably stare at him all day if he let her. "Approve…" she sighed wistfully "Would be an understatement." She smirked at him as she slowly lowered her arms and parted her raised knees just enough for him to get a glimpse of her.

The hunter's head was swimming. Between her words of praise..if that's what they could even be called…the look she was giving him…and the way she was revealing herself…Daryl didn't know whether to advance or retreat. Maybe he didn't have an answer, but his body did. He watched as she parted her legs even further, giving him a clear view of her core. His groin tightened and a drop of moisture was forming at the tip. Suddenly, the few feet separating them seemed unbearable. He wasn't sure when he'd started moving but he was crawling towards her.

Carol's mouth went dry as she watched him advance…his eyes were dark blue slits, his lips a tight line…he looked predatory, almost dangerous, but that only served to excite her. Natural instincts seemed to kick in for both of them as Daryl got closer. His movements were slow, purposeful…his face, determined…unafraid. Carol felt weak under his gaze. He paused when he was beside her, his eyes burning her skin. His stare was demanding submission, which Carol gladly gave him. Shaking a little, she eased onto her back, gooseflesh rising all over her body. Without speaking, he moved so that he was between her raised knees. His body was so close to hers, and even though he hadn't touched her yet, she could feel her walls opening in anticipation. He'd aligned his body over hers so that he could reach her mouth. At first, he had his palms flat on the ground…strong arms supporting his weight while he stared down at her…but as his eyes roamed her body, he realized that he needed to be closer. Carefully, he lowered himself until his weight was trapping Carol. But she didn't seem to mind. Her arms came up to wind around his neck, her fingers going to his hair. He let his forehead rest over her heart and he groaned softly into her skin.

Carol loved having him so close to her. She marveled at the way his warm skin felt against hers. His hands had moved to grip her sides…fingers curling protectively around her ribcage. Her thighs were pressed to his hips on either side, keeping him in place. She could feel his need brushing against her sex, and the thought that he could be inside her…soon, made Carol shudder underneath him. All she could do was lace her fingers in his hair and hold on.

Daryl was in awe of the warm flesh she was offering him. Every single part of her was soft and he could've sworn that there was no better place to lay his head than right there on her chest…just above her perfect breasts. He was listening to the steady pound of her heart, his fingers flexing as he held her ribcage, keeping their bodies pulled flush together. He wanted to stay trapped between her legs forever.

As much as she loved having Daryl lay his head on her chest, she needed more from him. She tugged at his hair, feeling his cock twitch; she liked that there was a direct link between the simple action and the sudden stirring below his waist. He immediately lifted his head to look at her. She didn't say anything, she just stared at him with hooded eyes…her nails were beginning to claw at his scalp. The hunter's hands traveled from her ribs, down to her small waist, where he gripped her hard. He thought she would gasp, or whimper, but she didn't. Carol continued to gaze into his eyes, hoping he could see how much she needed him. Without warning, she arched her body up into his, pressing herself against him…her slickness brushing his erection. The reaction was automatic as Daryl pressed back down, his pelvis countering her movements. Carol kept one hand tangled in his hair while the other drifted softly down his back. He couldn't take the light, tantalizing way she was touching him…and the raw hunger reflected in her eyes. He needed to fight back. In one move, his hips bucked down against hers and his teeth caught her lower lip; that made her gasp, which satisfied him. His cock was throbbing but he wasn't ready to enter her. Instead, he settled for being close…his tongue flicking out along her bottom lip. She quickly opened her mouth, letting him in. Taking the invitation, Daryl let his tongue massage hers. Carol thought about the effect his kisses had on her…the hungry way his mouth worked against hers…if having his tongue in her mouth drove her crazy, she wasn't sure how she was going to handle the rest of him. She still worried that they might not be compatible, due to Daryl's size. Aching for the man above her, Carol sucked his tongue hard, making him grunt into her mouth and buck against her core.

They were kissing like they might never get the chance to again. Their mouths almost unwilling to separate…their bodies moving together…pushing, arching. His damp skin was slick on hers and the feeling was maddening. Her legs squeezing him tighter on either side. She was panting against his lips and he pulled back just enough to stare at her. "The stabbin'…" he said, his voice low and strained.

Carol cut him off by pressing her lips to his. She applied gentle pressure, savoring the contact, her body pushing up into his on instinct. His hips moved against hers, keeping her pinned underneath him, he was tempted to buck again…harder, but he stopped himself. He pulled his mouth from hers and stared at her. She looked drugged…dazed.

Sensing that he must have something important to say, Carol licked her bottom lip, tasting him there. "What about the stabbing?" she whispered.

Daryl was trying to remember what it was he'd planned on asking her. His breathing was growing ragged and her body was so warm under his. Warm, alive, incredibly distracting. But as he felt her core grinding slowly, subtly against his need, the thought returned to him. "Is it gone?" he breathed.

Carol considered his question for a moment and then slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered, her hand tangling in his sweaty hair, keeping them close together. "It's worse…" she seemed to breathe the words against his lips and she could feel the muscles in his back tensing where her hand rested.

Daryl swallowed hard as he tried to process her answer. She could see the fear in his eyes…lingering reservations. She needed him to understand. Bringing her mouth to his ear, she whispered. "Are you going to fix it?"

The hunter trembled when the warm words hit his ear. He was weak and he let his head rest on her chest; he could feel her slick skin beneath his cheek and he lay, panting, his weight trapping her. His fingers dug in at her waist and his eyes slammed shut as he struggled with what to do.

Carol couldn't wait much longer; she didn't want to rush him, but her body was screaming for his touch. She was lying under him, suffering in a way that only a woman can. He was so close to her…everywhere, all around her, but it wasn't enough. She felt empty without him. All she could do was hold back her moans of frustration while her core slowly, pleadingly pushed against his erection. The hand that was resting on his lower back suddenly gripped him tight, her nails digging in, forcing him to look at her.

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath and lifted his head, his eyes finding hers. The feeling of her nails pricking at his skin sent a jolt of electricity straight down to his groin and he nearly growled. Her legs were shaking where they pressed against his hips…her entire body seemed to radiate nervous energy. They stared at one another and Carol swallowed, making herself speak. "I…need you…to fix it." she breathed.

Daryl's eyes were fearful and all he could manage was a shaky nod. She didn't understand the doubt that was etched into his features. She needed to reassure him. "Please…" she whispered, her fingers playing with his hair, threading softly…lovingly in the tangled locks. She'd loosened her grip on his back and was letting her hand move carefully up and down. Carol could feel the ridges as her fingers followed the curve of his spine. Her touch was light, soothing, as she tried to drive any fear from his mind. She loved him, wanted him, needed him…and she only hoped that he could see all those things reflected in her eyes.

Daryl was absolutely terrified, but he couldn't help the sigh that escaped him when he felt her smooth the hair behind his ear. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the contact. And her small hand was traveling up and down the expanse of his back, loving him. When he felt like he could meet her gaze again, he was startled by how open and honest her eyes were…clear, vibrant, blue. She was looking at him…as if he were her entire world. The hunter wasn't sure what he could possibly say to her…what he could do to show her how thankful he was for her company. He began to worry that he was going to fail her….

Carol could see the clouds of doubt forming over his brow and she moved her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing the scruff along his jaw line. "Daryl" she breathed, "I need you to fix it."

The hunter gnawed his lip before answering her. "What if I can't?" His voice was hushed.

Feeling her chest tighten with concern for her partner, Carol pulled him towards her until his forehead was resting against hers. Both of her soft hands were gently holding the back of his neck now, keeping him in place. "You can." she whispered. She closed her eyes and began to rub the back of his neck. "You can." she repeated, even softer this time.

He could feel it in the way she touched him, and he could hear it in the hushed way she spoke…her quiet pleas. He could feel her legs trembling against him, the warmth of her skin, and that was when the hunter knew. She meant it. Everything she'd said… She really believed in him. She wanted him…wanted this. With that staggering knowledge pounding in his skull, like the insistent beat of a drum, and the blood rushing furiously beneath his skin, Daryl moved. He released his grip on her waist and extended one arm, sliding his palm along the thin sheet, fingers splaying as he supported his weight. His other hand was gliding over her skin, moving down her belly.

Carol tensed when she felt his calloused hand slipping down between them. She was scared, excited, and all she could do was keep her arms around his neck and wait. Daryl grunted when his hand brushed her sex; the heat between their bodies was incredible and he had to focus. Carefully, his fingers curled around his erection, making him hiss. His member had grown slick with Carol's core pressing against it. He had to fight to steady his breathing; he needed to do this. With parted lips and closed eyes he tried to position himself near her entrance. Daryl felt like a virgin as he fumbled; he was afraid to hurt her.

Sensing that he needed help, Carol let one of her delicate hands slide down from his neck. She carefully reached down between them, just as Daryl had done. When her hand reached his need, she whispered to him. "It's okay; let me help you."

The hunter was panting as he nodded, his eyes still slammed shut. He released his manhood as Carol took over. He reached back up, letting his arm extend so that he was supported on both sides. His palms were flat on the ground, fingertips anxiously clawing at the sheet. Meanwhile, Carol's slender fingers wrapped around him and she had to stifle a groan at the feeling of him in her hand. She tightened her grip, making sure it was firm, and Daryl seemed to whimper. "Easy," she whispered. "Just remember what I said; we can do this."

Daryl gave another shaky nod and licked his dry lips.

She felt him tense as she began to guide him to her entrance. She widened her shaking legs and had to will herself to relax. When she brought the head of his member to her entrance, they both shuddered. Daryl's eyes flew open when he felt himself come into contact with her wetness. His lips were still parted, as were hers, and they stared at one another, chests rising and falling…hearts pounding. She maintained her grip on him, trying to bring him forward, into her. As much as she wanted him, Carol was still nervous, and she couldn't help the fact that her body was tensing. He moved his hips just slightly…but she was so wet, his cock merely slid along her core without penetrating. "Fuck.." he breathed, whether from frustration at the miss, or enjoyment of the wetness, Carol couldn't be sure. Pulling a deep, calming breath into her lungs, she tried to focus on the way his hair felt between her fingers. She still had one hand clutching at the back of his neck, and she played absently with the ends of his hair. As they stared at one another, Carol took in all the details of his face. He was flushed with arousal, color playing across his cheeks…there was sweat shining at his temples, above his upper lip….and his eyes were so intently focused on her. She couldn't recall a time when they'd ever looked as blue as they did now…as he watched her..his body above hers. Admiring the face of the man she loved seemed to help; she could feel some of the tension dissipating and her walls were beginning to open again.

Daryl's head was tilted to the side as he stared down at her. Despite the throbbing below his waist and the steady hammering of his heart, the hunter could see that a change was taking place in her. As a bead of sweat slipped from his jaw and landed on her chest, he made himself speak. "Again?" he asked between breaths.

Carol swallowed hard and nodded. Daryl's fingertips flexed again, blunt nails clawing the sheet as he braced himself. Carol steeled her nerves and guided him back to her entrance; she urged him forward. "Push," she pleaded with him.

Daryl slammed his eyes shut as he obeyed, his hips thrusting forward. The motion wasn't forceful or violent; the hunter was still afraid of hurting her. He controlled himself, bucking weakly against her. "Harder…" Carol breathed, knowing that it would take more force. He gritted his teeth and continued to push while Carol held him at her entrance. His jaw was clenched and her teeth were sinking hard into her bottom lip, both of them straining with the effort of their union. But between Carol tugging at him, and his hips jerking forward, the head of his cock finally pushed inside, breaching her entrance. They both froze. Slowly and cautiously, she uncurled her fingers, releasing him. She brought her hand back up to grip his hair. Daryl's hands had formed fists and he was clutching the sheet tightly.

It hurt; Carol knew that it would. He was too much for her. But she was still hungry, desperate for him. She could feel all of her muscles constricting around him…her body resisting the invasion. He'd barely gotten inside her and her walls were clamping shut. But the pain was good; she felt alive. Her mind was struggling to process the fact that their bodies were finally connected, and her disbelief must have registered on her face because suddenly Daryl was shifting. He brought one hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing the soft curves of her face. "Ya alright?" he breathed.

She nodded, smiling at him. "It's just…a lot." She tried not to let on that she was in any pain.

The hunter let a nervous chuckle escape him. The vibration seemed to reach Carol's core because her muscles were suddenly constricting even tighter around the head of his cock. He groaned and she bit her lip. "Yeah," he managed, after the initial shock passed. "It's a lot." Even as he said the words, all Daryl wanted to do was drive himself into her. "You wanna stop?" he asked fearfully as his tongue darted out over his dry lips.

Carol shook her head. "No." Her nails clawed lightly at the back of his neck, sending a chill down his spine. "I want you to move," she whispered.

Daryl swallowed hard, nodding. His hand left her face and returned to the floor so that he had leverage. Every breath seemed to burn in his lungs and his heart was beating furiously but he made himself move. With a grunt, his strong hips surged forward, pushing his cock into Carol's core. She was so wet, and he felt his manhood slide into her center quickly. He bucked again, making sure that every inch of his cock was buried inside her.

Carol cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, the sound ripping from her throat and making Daryl freeze above her. Her entire body locked up, every muscle tensing. Her nails were digging sharply into the back of his neck and her toes were curling. Her thighs were pressing in hard on either side of Daryl's body…and she could barely process what she was feeling. She thought just having the tip of him inside her was intense, but when his hips jerked and she felt his shaft slip inside her, the wind was knocked from Carol's lungs. If she hadn't been so wet, she was sure he never would've been able to fit. He'd forced himself into her core, pushing hard, making her walls open for him. And then he was pushing harder, driving the length of his cock into her body. Carol was powerless to stop him…not that she wanted any of this to stop, but her body wasn't prepared… She was in a state of shock, her mouth open…eyes closed as she clawed his neck.

Daryl stared down at her, strangely fascinated by the fact that he was having this effect on her. Now that he was inside her, the hunter was scared to move. The incredible pressure of her warm, slick walls around him was almost too much and he worried that he would come. Her muscles continued to tighten and Daryl had to force himself to hold on.

Carol's body was slowly adjusting…stretching to accommodate him. She seemed to mold her walls around him, her insides clinging to every inch, trapping him. He was so much…too much, and Carol was aching with the effort of having him inside her. She could feel the solid length of him filling her core…he jerked, twitching every so often as he waited her out. In the back of her hazy mind, Carol tried to recall if she'd ever felt like this, but she knew she hadn't. Nothing in her life could compare to this. She'd never been so full…and Daryl's cock was stretching her..pushing her to her limit. He was throbbing insider her and Carol realized that they needed to move. She knew that if they moved, some of the pain would subside.

After they'd lain for several minutes, aching and panting…getting used to one another, Carol glanced up at him. Their eyes met, and they each marveled at how amazed the other looked. Their chests were heaving as Carol's hands slid from his neck. She ran them down over his chest, clawing lightly. She kept moving until her arms curled around to grip his shoulder blades. Sweaty locks of Daryl's hair were falling in his face as he watched her. But once she had a solid grip on his shoulder blades, she didn't give him time to question her actions. Instead, Carol sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and bucked hard against him. Her pelvis tilted, granting him better access. The hunter didn't need further instruction, he seized the opportunity to drive himself deeper, his hips rushing forward, countering her movements. Carol screamed, her body shuddering under him as she felt his cock reach a deeper place inside her. Daryl stilled, scared that he'd done something wrong. He stared down at her, wild-eyed and breathless, and waited for her to speak.

Carol had gone rigid beneath him. Her back was arched and her mouth open in a silent scream as she worked through the new sensation that was gripping her. A part of her still couldn't believe that this was happening. It was difficult for her to accept the fact that the hardness between her legs was Daryl…his body pressed to hers. She could feel every vein on his shaft, his need straining within her walls. She wanted to give herself over to all of it…she wanted everything. Her nails were digging into his shoulder blades so hard that she knew she must be hurting him. An eternity seemed to pass before she was able to open her eyes and face the man who had taken control of her body. Carol's breaths were quick and shallow as her eyes fluttered open.

Daryl licked his chapped lips before he spoke. "Carol…" he panted. "You sure…this is….alright?"

She wasn't sure how to answer him; her mouth had gone dry the second he entered her. Instead of speaking, Carol decided to wrap her legs around his waist. The action brought them closer and she could feel the tip of him pushing up into her center. The pain was quickly transforming into pleasure….the feelings so intense that she wanted to cry.

When he felt her long legs wrapping securely around his waist, Daryl knew that he'd been given the go-ahead. But before he would allow himself to move, he dipped his head and caught her mouth with his. As his lips pressed against hers, Carol lost herself in the kiss. They sucked and nipped at each other's lips…tongues…teeth colliding every so often, but that didn't slow them. They were hungry for one another; their mouths willing and wet. When his tongue slid under hers, Daryl gave a strong, sudden thrust. A sharp, painful sound burst from her chest and her nails dug in harder, but Daryl felt the way her legs quivered and took it as a positive sign. Before she could even recover, the hunter was pulling back. He had to work to pull himself from her…she was loathe to let him go. He didn't slip free; he left the tip of himself inside her as they continued to kiss.

Carol felt half-crazed without him filling her core. She'd grown accustomed to the pressure and she wanted it back. The ring of muscles at her entrance was constricting around the head of his cock, refusing to let go. The sensation was making Daryl growl against her lips. Carol sucked at his tongue and he slammed himself back into her center, knocking any air from her lungs. The strong, fluid motion of his hips made Carol feel weak. She closed her eyes and groaned into his mouth.

Feeling her slick walls move against his cock was incredible and Daryl felt himself jerk inside her. He wasn't coming, but he knew that drops of moisture were leaking from the tip of his member. He was torn between wanting to collide with her, and wanting to hold back…to make it last. But the hunter was too far gone…he couldn't stop. He caught her lower lip with his teeth and bit down as he pulled back again. Daryl and Carol both hissed at the friction. She knew what was coming and this time, her walls opened wider…she wanted to take all of him. With her lip still caught between his teeth, Daryl growled and forced himself back inside her.

Carol had never experienced anything like this. As she felt him sinking into her center again, she knew that her body belonged to him. He could do whatever he wanted to her; she was content to twist, writhe and gasp underneath him. Her hips rocked against his as he thrust and it was all she could do to keep her trembling legs wrapped around him. Their movements seemed to be instinctual. Whenever he pushed forward, she raised her hips, tilting her pelvis to allow him deeper into her core. And each time he sank into her, Carol arched her back and groaned. The sensations were so powerful that the two of them felt dizzy and feverish…as if the heat between them was all-consuming.

The motion of their bodies was becoming fluid…smooth. The longer they held the connection, the easier it seemed to become for Daryl to move inside her. Her walls were so wet, and she was opening for him. The hunter's skin was growing damp with sweat and he could feel his stomach glide against hers as he pushed into her again. Completely buried in her center, he had to close his eyes and savor the feeling of Carol's warmth wrapped around him. He stilled himself and focused on the way her insides gripped him. Heavy breaths were passing his parted lips.

Carol tightened her legs around his waist when she felt his movements stop. She was getting so close to her peak and all she wanted was for him to keep going. Being with Daryl was so much more than she ever could've imagined. Everything he did seemed to heighten her arousal. Each jerk of his hips made her legs tremble. When she felt the length of him press into her core, she nearly stopped breathing. She wanted more…her body rocked weakly against his, trying to force him to move, and her nails were still clinging to his shoulder blades. The rain was striking the roof angrily…the intensity seeming to match that of the two survivors whose bodies were twisted together in the confines of the tent. Daryl was throbbing inside her and finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She rolled her hips slowly against his, savoring the feeling of his hardness inside her. "More…" she pleaded…the word coming out as a strained whisper.

The hunter eased his eyes open and stared down at her. He took note of the flush on her cheeks, her heavy lids…the rise and fall of her chest. As much as he cared for the woman underneath him, Daryl began to feel a strong, animalistic urge coursing through his veins. Any fears he may have had before were gone…he could tell by the way she was moving against him…the way her walls continued to open…she wasn't in pain….she wanted it as much as he did. Suddenly, the hunter seemed stricken by their positioning. It felt right, natural for him to be on top…the weight of his body pressing down on hers, trapping her. As he continued to stare down at his captive, Daryl began to relish the control he had over her…the feeling of dominance that came with having her soft body underneath him. She was quivering and panting, and the knowledge that he'd done that to her, was only lending strength to the hunter's lust. It was then that he realized he couldn't hold back anymore. This was more than sex… He wasn't sure what to call it…whatever it was that was taking place between them….fucking…making love…something in between? All he knew was that he wanted to control her. It wasn't just about pleasing her…he wanted to push Carol until she couldn't take it anymore…to possess her body and bring her to a level of pleasure that would render her weak and senseless. With those thoughts filling his head, he answered her plea with a strong, sudden thrust.

They both hissed and Carol arched up into him, taking everything he had to give her. Her core tightened around him and she could feel herself losing control. Daryl must have sensed the change taking placed in her because his eyes met hers and he licked his dry lips before speaking. "Not yet…" he breathed. She could only stare in awe at the man who was looming over her. In the periphery of her vision, she could see his arms…the muscles trembling as he fought to hold himself up. The look on his face was almost predatory and Carol couldn't help but feel that she was at his mercy.

"Need ya to hang on…." he growled, sweat shining on his upper lip. "Stay with me…"

Carol swallowed hard and managed a nod as she tried to keep her body under control. The second she agreed to hold on, Daryl ducked his head and seized her mouth with his…his kisses were strong and wet, his tongue slowly sliding under hers making her gasp. With their mouths connected, their bodies responded in kind. Hips pushing, grinding… Daryl was trying to build them both up slowly, his movements deliberate. He sank into her center, loving the way she moaned into his mouth. Focused on bringing her to the brink, the hunter continued to pull back with forced slowness and slide back inside smoothly. He kept going, relishing the control and the way she moved underneath him. Her breathing picked up and he knew that she was struggling with the slow pace. The kissing intensified as her lips pressed against his hard. One of her hands moved from his shoulder blade and returned to his hair; she was clawing at his scalp each time his hips bucked into her. It was all so overwhelming and the hunter couldn't recall sex ever feeling like this. He'd lost track of how long he'd been inside her…how long their bodies had been connected, but he knew that this was the longest he'd ever been able to hold an erection, and she was making it worth every second.

Carol could feel every last inch of him as he slipped into her core, but she needed more from him. Tugging sharply at his hair, she pulled their mouths apart so that she could catch her breath. Their eyes burned into each other but Daryl didn't stop. He simply stared at her while his hips continued to move between her legs. Carol kept her fist closed tightly around his hair and made herself speak. "I need more…" she breathed. "Please…"

Daryl felt more lust coursing through his frame, making him harder inside her. This was what he wanted…to hear her. Feeling more like a man than he ever had in his life, the hunter bowed his head and let the tip of his tongue flick out to taste the salty skin of her chest. Carol shivered, but didn't have the power to stop him. Daryl moved, dragging the tip of his tongue up, between her breasts, letting it dip into the well of her throat. Carol groaned and tightened the grip of her legs around his waist. With the taste of her in his mouth, Daryl stared hard at her. "Tell me what ya want…" he growled softly.

Carol bit her lip and used her strength to pull him by the hair until his cheek was pressed to her chest. She held him there, forcing him to lie against her while she toyed with his hair. Loving the softness of her skin, Daryl let his eyes close as he listened to the pounding of her heart. Carol bucked weakly against him and then whispered into his hair, "Harder…" Her hushed request made Daryl open his eyes. He tried to push himself up, but Carol held firm, unwilling to let him go. "Stay like this…" she breathed. The hunter managed to shift slightly so that he could hide in the crook of her neck where his teeth quickly bit down on her flesh. She gasped, her walls tightening around him for an instant. She still had one hand lost in his hair while the other clutched at his shoulder blade. He could feel the urgency in the way she held him, and he realized that the time for hesitation was over. Without warning, he growled into her neck and thrust hard, feeling her entire body jerk underneath him.

"Yes…" she gasped, "Please…"

The power of those words resonated with Daryl and he slammed into her again. He could feel her damp skin sliding against his…her breasts pressed to his chest as he moved above her. He continued to pull back and push forward, his intensity and his pace increasing. As he thrust, he growled into the crook of her neck, "How hard?"

Carol swore and bucked her hips into his. "Until I'm numb…." she breathed. In that moment, she was sure she'd never uttered such a carnal statement…but then again, she'd never experienced physical pleasure like this. She simply said what she was thinking. She wanted Daryl to keep going, until she couldn't feel anymore.

Daryl couldn't believe what she'd said. His blunt nails clawed at the sheet beneath them and his teeth still held her flesh while his hips ground into hers. Focusing on the warmth of her skin, the scent…and the slickness of her walls, the hunter continued to drive himself into her center. He was moving with more fervor now, forcing his manhood into the tight, wet, heat of her core, again…and again, and again. His body was in control now, and he let his desire for her take over. He picked up the pace, pushing in deeper and faster with each thrust.

Carol was having trouble keeping her shaking legs locked around him. The pleasure he was bringing her too was incredible and her mouth was open as she felt his cock slipping in and out of her. He was pushing so hard, and Carol nearly choked when she felt him hit her g-spot. He didn't seem to realize that he'd done anything significant; his pace continued and he nipped at her neck again. But Carol felt like she couldn't breathe and she didn't know how much longer she could hold on. She maintained their rhythm, meeting him stroke for stroke, her hips rising, pelvis tilting to allow him in. She wasn't sure, in her delirium, when his hands had moved to her breasts, but he was massaging them roughly, using his grip for leverage to fuck her. Carol was losing her mind and she couldn't help the words that began to fall from her lips as the ferocity of Daryl's movements increased. "Yes…god…yes…yeah….yeah…fuck…" She was panting in time to his thrusts.

Somehow, over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, Daryl heard her, his body responding. He moved faster, biting into her shoulder. Carol could feel his damp hair slipping through her fingers, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the incredible ache building between her legs. Daryl was reaching the deepest parts of her now…she could feel the tip of him pushing into her g-spot again. It was as if he'd found the source of all her tension and he continued to assault it, working her body with a ferocity that she was sure could only exist between animals. Carol felt his heavy breaths in the corner of her neck, and his scruff tickling her skin and it was all proving to be too much. He was relentless as he drove them closer to their peak. Suddenly, she was speaking again… or muttering…she couldn't be sure. "Fuck Daryl…god….like that….yes…please….yeah…" her hips working desperately against his.

The hunter was losing himself…her words echoing in his ears. He couldn't believe the effect he was having on her. The storm was still raging outside and thunder rolled overhead, drowning out his own groans. The only thing he was sure of was her wet, warm softness surrounding his cock. There was an intense suction between their bodies…her walls seeming to draw the length of him in as deep as she could. She was trembling around him and he knew it wouldn't be long. He wanted to break her…to make her lost control. Sinking into her hard, Daryl snarled against her neck.

Carol arched her back and gasped. He was pushing so hard, and her nails dug into his shoulder blade. She heard him hiss at the pain, but she couldn't stop. She was bucking against him, her body hungry and aching. The thickness of him inside her was driving her crazy and the friction between them made it difficult for her to breathe. His body continued to pound against hers, faster…and faster….making her weak. He was pushing, pulling, working her body mercilessly…it was the most amazing thing that Carol had ever experienced and her eyes slammed shut when she felt herself beginning to slip over the edge. The heat between her legs was stifling and pleasure was rushing through her in strong waves. He kept thrusting, his pace never slowing, and her mouth was open in a silent scream as she clawed his shoulder blade so hard that she felt the skin break…She tugged fiercely at his hair, making him growl. Her body arched into his and he slipped into her center so smoothly and so deep that Carol couldn't control herself anymore. She felt something breaking inside her and her entire body seemed to seize…every muscles tensing and locking up with pleasure. She cried out, her screams almost lost in the sound of heavy rain and thunder outside. In her throes of ecstasy, Carol was dimly aware of a sticky substance under her fingertips…blood from the scratches on Daryl's shoulder blade. But she was too lost to let herself linger on the minor wound she'd inflicted…her focus was on the crippling orgasm that was working its way through her exhausted frame. She felt more wetness seeping from inside her, coating his cock. All she wanted was more…to savor the feeling of him between her trembling legs. Her eyes were slammed shut as her walls began to convulse around the length of him. She felt herself spasm, hot and wet, as he continued to push into her center. The sensation was so deliciously incredible and Carol's walls were shuddering around him. Overwhelmed, her legs unlocked and eased down. She felt so weak…the intensity of her climax had all but sapped her strength, but she loved the way that he kept moving above her….every time he entered her already quivering core, she felt a fresh wave of pleasure rush through her body…as her screams died down, she was moaning and panting underneath him. "Don't….stop..." she sighed.

The muscles in Daryl's stomach tensed the moment her felt her walls slam shut around him. Her insides gripped him with an intensity that was almost painful…before he could even process that feeling, a torrent of warm wetness was surrounding him…and then everything was trembling. Her hips were bucking hard and fast against him, urging him to drive himself deeper into her center. So he continued and then her walls were opening and closing in rapid succession…the muscles seeming to flutter while she arched her back and screamed. The hunter knew then, as he threw all his strength into his thrusts and heard her broken cries…she was finally coming. The knowledge that he'd done that to her left the hunter breathless. And then the sharp sting of her nails on his skin told him that he needed to keep going. It could only get better now that she'd hit her peak. He could keep adding to her pleasure until she begged him to stop…and he could finally let go. With his hips surging, and his teeth sinking into her shoulder, Daryl continued to drive himself into her core. The sound of her soft whimpers and moans spurred him on and he was thrusting wildly. Her weak legs had relinquished their grip on his waist and had eased down. The intensity of his movements seemed to be breaking her and her legs fell to the sides, leaving her completely spread open for him. Relishing his dominance over her body, the hunter worked harder, and harder, feeling his cock rub against her quivering walls. She was getting narrow, making him grit his teeth as he moved inside her. Losing all control, Daryl growled into her neck and began to tear into her body, the motion of his hips almost violent. All that mattered was the incredible friction as he moved back and forth above her…she was still panting, groaning, and he focused on those sounds as he felt his cock swell. The pressure…her walls hugging him so tightly, it was all too much and he felt himself let go. His orgasm worked its way down the length of his cock, making it harder before he slammed his body into hers, forcing himself into the deepest part of her center where he finally released his seed. Daryl nearly blacked out as he felt his hips continue to thrust weakly, he was still coming deep inside her walls, filling her…his semen spurting from the tip of his swollen cock. He kept bucking, feeling her walls milk him, stroking him to his end. When he couldn't stand it anymore…all motion stopped and he lay panting on her chest.

Carol knew she'd never be able to describe the feeling of him fucking her through her orgasm…compounding her pleasure. She couldn't be sure, but she thought maybe he'd pushed her right into a second climax. All she knew was that their union was the best thing she'd ever felt. She'd been gasping for air, struggling as he ground his hips into hers…When she felt him grow harder, longer inside her…she knew he was close. He'd buried himself, as deeply as he could and then she'd felt his entire body jerk forward as he came hot and hard into her core. He continued to jerk and twitch inside her and her body had worked against his, her walls almost sucking him deeper into her center as he filled her with his seed. When she felt that warmth hit her womb, Carol bucked up into him, savoring the hard length of his shaft before he grew soft. She wished she could feel like this forever…exhausted, weak, so incredibly satisfied.

Overwhelmed and shaken, the two survivors lay together waiting for their heart rates to slow. The sound of their panting filled the small tent as their bodies continued to ache, throb and pulse in the aftermath of orgasm. They were still connected, and neither seemed to have the strength or the will to separate. His weight was heavy on her slight frame, but Carol didn't mind. She was playing absently with the ends of his hair, while her other hand ran lightly up and down his back. She was content to let him lie with her for as long as he wanted. His skin was damp beneath her fingertips and she tried to memorize the feeling. Suddenly struck with a powerful emotion, Carol bit her bottom lip and stared up at the domed ceiling. Her chest tightened as she realized how much she truly needed Daryl. Rain was still coming down hard, but the sound was almost a comfort to her.

If it's still storming…we can stay here…we don't have to leave.

She didn't know what would happen now…where they would go from here, but she knew that she loved him. Carol wanted to savor every second of their time together, and if that meant staying quiet, and stroking his hair while he lay panting on her chest, then she would oblige. Even though they'd reached the height of physical pleasure together, Carol still wanted to bring him comfort, in any way that she could. Feeling so grateful for the man in her arms, Carol blinked away unshed tears and kissed the top of his head. His eyes were closed, but he seemed to respond to the contact with a soft grunt. She smiled up at the ceiling and listened to the rain as she played with Daryl's damp hair.

In the house, Andrea was growing worried. She was pacing in the kitchen, hands on her hips as she sighed. T-Dog walked into the room, eyeing her. "Hey," he called softly.

She paused, leaning against the small island. "Hey."

T-Dog moved towards her. "You alright?"

She scratched at the back of her head before answering. "Just thinking about Carol."

"What about her?" T-Dog asked, his arms folding across his chest.

"Earlier…I was on getting on her case….telling her she needed to talk to Daryl, get him to move in here with us." Andrea felt guilty, replaying the argument in her head.

"Makes sense," said T-Dog. "That boy ain't got no business bein' out there in a damn storm."

"I know," Andrea sighed. "But I feel like I pushed it on her…maybe it wasn't my place."

"Naw; you good." T-Dog chuckled. "Carol's one of the only ones who can tolerate his cranky ass. And he does need to be in here. If anyone could change his mind, it's her."

"She didn't want to go…but I wouldn't let up…and I haven't seen her in a while. Part of me is afraid to go after her because I'm pretty sure I'm just going to stumble on some horrible argument between the two of them…an argument that could've been avoided if I'd just left them both alone."

T-Dog studied the blonde woman. "You really think they standin' out in the rain, havin' a shoutin' match?"

Andrea shook her head and brought one hand up to rub her temple. "I honestly don't know…it's Daryl we're talking about. He goes looking for arguments, and sometimes I think that Carol is convenient target for him."

"Carol can handle herself," T-Dog chuckled again. "She ain't scared of Daryl."

Andrea leaned back against the island and sighed, staring down at her shoes. "Guess you're right."

Sensing that this was really weighing on the woman, T-Dog reached out and gripped her shoulder gently. "Hey."

She glanced up at him.

"If it's really botherin' you, I'll go track her down. Alright?"

Andrea gave him a weak smile. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No problem," he said, giving her shoulder a pat before turning away. "I'll be back in a minute…I ain't tryin' to stay out there in that rain."

She allowed herself to chuckle as she watched him go.

T-Dog was rubbing his arms to keep warm as he made his way down the porch steps and into the rain. The cold droplets were pelting his skin and getting into his eyes, making him blink. When he stood in the grass, he squinted, surveying the land surrounding the house. Both vehicles were still parked where the survivors had left them when they'd begun unloading supplies. As he continued to take in the details, T-Dog spotted Daryl's tent in the distance. The hunter seemed to have made his camp near a small scattering of trees. "Where in the hell is Carol?" he muttered to himself. He briefly wondered if she'd snuck back into the house without anyone noticing; she had a knack for that.

As he made his way slowly out onto the lawn, T-Dog began to share Andrea's concerns. Daryl's mood had already soured when Rick told them all about the discovery of the bodies…and then his brief, yet very physical altercation with the group's leader probably hadn't done much to improve things. T-Dog knew the hunter was already on edge when Andrea sent Carol out to talk to him.

Shit…last thing that boy wants is someone in his space..tellin' him what he needs to do…

He worried that the two were arguing, just as Andrea said. And by arguing, T-Dog knew that Daryl was probably doing a lot of yelling and Carol was waiting him out.

Woman don't need anybody bitchin' at her…

He felt anger beginning to bubble inside him as he pictured the redneck screaming at Carol. Had he drug her into the tent when the rain started? He cringed at the thought of Carol being trapped with the angry hunter is a small space. For a moment, he paused, and considered the possibility that they'd both taken a walk to hash out their differences.

Maybe they behind the house?

But he figured the tent was his best starting point. Bracing himself for the rage he was sure to encounter once he reached the tent, T-Dog squared his shoulders and continued to advance. Daryl might have a bad temper, but T-Dog wouldn't shy from a fight if that's what it came down to. He quickened his pace, not wanting to linger in the rain any longer than he had to. Thunder crashed above him, making him curse. He was jogging now…only slowing when he began to near the tent. There was a brief lull in the thunder and he stopped to wipe more rain water from his eyes. As he rubbed the back of his neck, and tried to think of what he was going to say once he was face to face with Daryl….something made T-Dog's brows knit together. He stood rooted to the spot, just feet from the tent, and tried to process what he was hearing.

Carol?

A sharp cry seemed to come from inside the tent…a woman's cry. For half a heartbeat, T-Dog thought she'd been hurt, but in the next instant she was crying out again, and there was no mistaking the sound. T-Dog felt an uncomfortable warmth in his cheeks as he realized that Carol and Daryl weren't arguing…and Carol was most definitely not in any pain. He stood there in shock as rain continued to soak through his shirt.

Well damn…

The sound of Carol's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He heard her shouting a string of curses…words he was pretty sure she'd never even used before… T-Dog was glad that she seemed to be enjoying herself, but the thought that Daryl was the one making her scream was so strange to him. Feeling as though he'd already lingered too long, T-Dog began a slow, hesitant retreat. He was afraid of making a sound and alerting them to his presence. That was the last thing on earth that any of them needed. T-Dog couldn't even begin to imagine what the hunter would do to him if he knew that he'd heard them having sex. Unbeknownst to T-Dog, there was no way the tent's occupants ever would've heard him…as lost as they were in each other. Swallowing hard, T-Dog finally summoned his courage and took off running back towards the house, all the while wondering what he was going to tell Andrea…or anyone else who happened to ask where Daryl and Carol were. He nearly stumbled in his haste to climb the now slick porch steps. He jerked the door open with a huff and made his way inside. As he stood in the entryway, catching his breath, T-Dog realized he had another problem. He was never going to be able to un-hear Carol screaming. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to block any images from his mind, and nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Glenn was standing in front of him, concern written on the younger man's face. "Hey…where were you?

"Hm?" T-Dog asked, still reeling from his very strange experience.

Glenn looked past him, his dark eyes on the yard that was visible through the open door. "Something wrong out there? Are there walkers?" panic was creeping into the younger man's voice.

T-Dog blew out a breath he'd been holding and shook his head slowly. "Naw man…just…" he was desperate for a believable story, an excuse…anything…and that's when inspiration struck. "I was checkin' on Daryl."

A crease formed in Glenn's brow and he took a step back, giving T-Dog space. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah; I mean….his ankle's been actin' up and after him 'n Rick got into it earlier…I think he hurtin' more than he lets on." said T-Dog.

Glenn nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "I feel like he'd never actually tell any of us if he was in real pain."

"The boy's stubborn as hell," T-Dog acknowledged. "But Carol's with him…tendin' to him…" he added quickly. The words made T-Dog's cheeks burn he wished he'd put more thought into his phrasing. "His lip is pretty torn up; she's lookin' at it for him."

Jesus…

If he'd tried…T-Dog probably couldn't have picked worse words. Unwanted images were creeping into his consciousness.

Yeah…she doin' more than lookin'….sounded like she was the one gettin' tended to…Lord…

Quickly shaking the thoughts from his head, T-Dog moved to step away from Glenn. "I'll be back; I'm gonna go help Andrea with somethin' in the kitchen." With that, he took off to find the blonde woman.

"So; they're alright? Daryl and Carol?" Glenn called out.

T-Dog answered without looking back. "Yeah man; they good."

Glenn stood in the entryway feeling strangely confused.

Andrea was still leaning against the island, where T-Dog had left her just moments ago. When she heard his footsteps on the tile floor, she looked up, her eyes questioning. She hadn't expected him back so soon…and Carol didn't appear to be with him. "Well?" she asked. "What happened?"

T-Dog grabbed her wrist and gently led her across the kitchen until the two of them reached the small breakfast table. He released her as they each sank into one of the wooden chairs. T-Dog's expression was worrying her. "What's wrong?" she asked as she leaned across the table. "Did you find her?"

He answered with a slow nod as he brought his hands up and clasped them under his chin. Andrea still didn't understand why he hadn't brought Carol back with him. "Well where is she? Is she coming?"

T-Dog tried to stifle a groan. His eyes closed and he released a heavy sigh. "Probably…" he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Andrea asked. "T…I need you to fill me in here…why isn't she with you? Why aren't they both with you?"

He slowly opened his eyes and focused on the woman sitting across from him. "I found 'em, alright? They fine…ain't arguin'."

"So why didn't you drag them back here? How long are they going to stay out in that storm? We can't just leave them out there…"

T-Dog sighed again, wondering how he could get his point across.

But Andrea was impatient. She stood quickly, "If you don't want to do it, I will…they need to be with us." She moved to leave but T-Dog caught her wrist.

"Hang on…" he said, tugging at her.

Submitting, Andrea sat back down with a huff, her expression critical.

T-Dog stared hard at her and spoke slowly. "I told you; they're fine. They ain't arguin'…" He really needed her to understand.

Andrea's eyes narrowed, "Am I missing something here?" she asked.

"In fact…" he said, gnawing his lip, "They doin' the opposite of arguin'…." He felt his cheeks burn and wished that he didn't have to have this conversation.

The blonde woman's lips parted but she still wasn't sure she understood. "I don't…." and then she froze. A realization settled over her as the meaning behind T-Dog's words sunk in. Her eyes grew wide and it was her turn to blush.

T-Dog took in the change in her expression and knew that she finally got it. He nodded, driving the point home.

"H-how…" she stuttered, searching for the right words. "How do you know...?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a breath. "I heard 'em…" he closed his eyes in exasperation. Andrea slumped back in her chair, stunned. She was having trouble processing what her friend had told her.

Stranger things have happened….

She knew that Carol and Daryl shared some sort of connection..that the two were close, but she certainly wasn't expecting to hear about them in bed together anytime soon…not with the hunter's hostile attitude and his aversion to physical contact. "You heard them?" she whispered.

T-Dog was massaging his now aching temple. "I heard her…" he clarified. "They're in his tent. I don't know what the hell happened when you sent her out there…what she said to him…but I guess it worked out."

Andrea blinked, still somewhat dumbfounded by the news. "Oh god…" she said. "And they didn't know you were there? They didn't see you…hear you?"

T-Dog snorted. "Man; ain't no way in hell they heard me. Carol's got some damn lungs on her…I ain't never gonna get that shit outta my head." He started to laugh, unable to deny the humor in the situation any longer.

Andrea couldn't help it, she had to laugh too, the sound bursting from her lips as she bowed her head, letting it rest on the table. "I can't believe you just said that…" she managed between breathy laughs.

"I'll say it again," T-Dog laughed, "Your girl is loud as shit!"

The two companions were losing themselves, the laughter making their chests hurt. "At least she's happy?" Andrea offered.

"That's what it sounded like," he laughed.

They paused to catch their breath and wipe at the tears that were forming in the corners of their eyes. After several minutes, Andrea sighed and sat up, pushing the blonde hair back from her face. "Oh god…" she said softly, one hand still combing through her hair.

"What?" he asked her.

"We can't let them know that we know." she said.

"That's gonna be hard," T-Dog admitted. "I don't think I can look at her the same again."

Andrea smirked at him. "Stop. It'll be fine. It's just sex."

"With Daryl.." he added.

They both laughed again. "No, really!" she said. "We have to act like nothing's changed. It'll kill them if they think we know."

"You think?" T-Dog asked.

"Have you met Daryl?" she quipped. "The guy that waits until the middle of the night to get washed up? Yeah; I get the feeling he won't take kindly to the idea that someone heard him having sex. And Carol's not the type to air her dirty laundry…you've seen how shy she can get."

"Fine," T-Dog sighed. "Mum's the word."

"Good." she said. "Guess all we can do now is wait for them to come back."

T-Dog considered his friends words and nodded slowly. "Yeah….or…we could take bets on where they gonna bed down for the night." he smirked at her.

Andrea folded her arms across her chest and eyed him. "Fine." She smirked back at him and they laughed quietly as they proposed their theories on Daryl and Carol's sleeping arrangements.

Daryl's breathing was finally beginning to slow and his eyes fluttered open. He could feel Carol's warm skin beneath his cheek; his head was still resting on her chest. A deep groan of satisfaction came from his chest as he started to move. He took a second to rub his scruff against her breasts as he shifted above her. She giggled, her hand still tangled in his hair. He smirked down at her and she smiled back at him. "Nice nap?" she asked, teasing.

Daryl snorted. "I wasn't out that long."

"No," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "You weren't."

He leaned down, kissing her softly, surprising them both. When he pulled back, they were both blushing. "What?" he huffed as she continued to stare up at him.

"Nothing," she laughed lightly. "It's nice…this side of you. It's sweet."

He snorted again, looking away.

"Hey," she said softly, using her grip on his hair to tug him gently until he was facing her again. "Look at me."

The hunter stared at her.

Her fingers were splaying on the back of his neck while her thumb rubbed the point of his jaw, just below his ear. Her other hand was still trailing lightly along the length of his spine but she let it rest just above his tailbone. "It was good," she said, smiling. "In case you were wondering…"

Daryl could feel the corner of his mouth hitching up into a smirk. "Yeah?" he asked. "Just good?"

Carol gnawed her bottom lip and blushed harder. "Really good," she admitted, her toes curling as she remembered the way it felt to hit her peak.

The hunter bowed his head until he could nip at her neck. "I think it was better than that," he growled softly into her skin.

Carol was giggling again, her hand tugging at his hair while her nails clawed lightly at his back. "Okay…it was amazing…" she said, hoping he'd find the answer satisfactory.

"Try again…" he growled, biting her shoulder.

As he continued to toy with her, Carol absently wondered if she had the stamina to go again. "It was incredible…" she breathed as his teeth sank into her skin.

"You're gettin' warmer…" he chuckled…the husky sound turning her on all over again.

Carol couldn't get enough of him. She let her hand slip down lower and playfully gripped his ass, making him jerk. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered. "It was mind blowing."

He sucked at her neck for a moment and then eased back so that he could stare at her. There was a definite smirk on his lips as he studied the woman underneath him. "That's more like it." he said.

"Satisfied?" she huffed, her nails clawing at his ass.

"You could say that…." he kissed her again.

She was chuckling when they separated, but the laughter seemed to die in her chest as she stared at him. Her expression was thoughtful and she moved her hand from his ass, bringing it up the length of his spine. "Daryl…" she said softly. "I've never…I've never felt anything like that…"

The hunter's blue eyes were questioning her.

"The way it felt when we…" she paused, somewhat nervous, but she made herself continue. "When we finished…" she breathed. "I didn't know it was possible to feel like that."

Daryl brought his thumb to her cheek and brushed the curve of her face gently. "Me neither…"

"It really was amazing," she whispered. "You were amazing."

He ducked his head, blushing. "Naw…"

"You were." she insisted.

When he got the courage to meet her gaze again, she was smiling at him. "You weren't so bad yourself," he said, smirking at her. They both took a moment to chuckle together.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed wistfully.

"Hm?" he asked, his hand massaging her breast.

"As much fun as this is…" she leaned up and kissed him quickly. "We can't spend the rest of our lives in here."

Daryl squeezed her breast, making her gasp. "Who says we can't?" he asked.

She smirked at him again. "You know they probably think we're both dead, right? How long have we been out here?"

He snorted. "No idea. Why's that matter? Ain't nobody's business where we go or why."

"Daryl…" she sighed, bringing one leg up to curl around his waist, making him growl. "They're going to worry. Besides, I think we should go inside, get cleaned up, and maybe find something to eat."

Daryl huffed. "What? You done with me?" He caught her bottom lip in his teeth and tugged gently, he only released her so that he could nuzzle her neck, rubbing his scruff against her skin. "Sayin' you wanna wash all this off? He let his tongue flick out to taste the crook of her neck.

Carol didn't understand how every single thing he did could be so incredibly enticing and appealing. If she was being honest with herself, she'd be perfectly content to spend the rest of her days covered in his sweat…his scent all around her, on her skin…in her hair…but they couldn't hideout in the tent forever.

"No," she chuckled, kissing his neck. "I'm not nearly done with you."

He pulled back and they grinned at each other.

"But all that work we did…made me hungry…and I have to pee." she admitted.

Daryl chuckled. "Guess I wore your ass out didn't I?"

Carol couldn't believe how cocky he'd become. "You sure think a lot of yourself." she said, her eyes narrowing.

Daryl felt himself blushing as he smirked at her. "Well, with all the screamin'…"

She reached up and smacked his arm playfully, making them both laugh. After a few minutes of staring at each other, enjoying each other…Carol brushed another strand of hair behind his ear. "You know…I thought I heard something about running water inside…" she said

"Yeah…you think some water's gonna make me get up off this floor?" he asked, his eyes on her breasts.

Carol's smile widened as her hand trailed back down to his ass. "Running water…means showers…" she let her words hang in the air suggestively.

The hunter wasn't following.

She sighed, lifting his chin so that he was staring at her face and not her chest. "A shower would be a good place to clean up…don't you think?"

He smirked at her. "That an invitation?" he asked.

"It is." she said, biting the corner of her lip.

Daryl caught her mouth with his and they enjoyed kissing one another, slow and sweet. She started to laugh and pulled back, "What?" he asked.

"I really do have to pee.." she said.

He bit her bottom lip one last time. "Buz-kill.." he growled.

Carol couldn't help but groan when his teeth sank into her lip. But she made herself sit up, and Daryl carefully pulled himself from her. They both hissed at the loss. Carol immediately clamped her legs shut as she struggled with the emptiness…she'd grown used to the pressure of him inside her. She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the evidence of what they'd done trickling down the inside of her thigh.

Daryl could see that she'd gone rigid…she was sitting stock still, hands splayed at her sides with raised knees. Even in the gloom of the tent, he could see a wet spot forming on the sheet beneath her. It seemed to occur to Daryl, for the first time since they'd started all this, that they hadn't used anything. He'd never been bare inside a woman before. But Carol didn't seem to mind, and he was too wound up to think about it during the act. "That a problem?" he asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

She eased her legs apart, just slightly, and stared down at the small mess she'd made…well, they'd made it together. A part of her was still having trouble accepting the fact that any of it had happened. But she could see, and feel his seed slowly dripping from her…and that made it real. Recognizing the notes of fear in Daryl's question, she lifted her chin and looked at him. "No," she said. "It's fine."

"Ya sure?" he asked, realizing that he had waited far too long to pose the question.

She nodded, trying to reassure him. "Yeah. It's….nothing's going to happen. I mean….I can't get…" she paused, trying to find the right way to voice her thoughts. She was anxiously chewing her lip.

Daryl could see that this was bothering her, and he worried that she'd misinterpreted his words. He moved until he was sitting beside her, and he reached out, letting one hand rest on her raised knee. The hunter wasn't sure about what he was doing; he'd never been good at comforting people, but he sensed that he needed to do this. "Carol.." he growled softly.

She glanced at him, and he could tell she was trying to put on a brave front. "I wasn't tryin' to upset you." he said. "Just…figured…I shoulda…"

But she stopped him, her hand moving to rest over his. "It's on both of us," she said, acknowledging their recklessness. Carol knew what his fear was, and she wanted him to know that he didn't have to worry. "We weren't thinking…and maybe we got a little carried away, but it's fine. Really. And you're right to be concerned but…I'm not going to get pregnant."

The hunter was in over his head, but he supposed that had been true the moment she kissed him. He had no desire to bring another life into this world, and with good reason. To him, a baby signified a death sentence. He knew that Herschel could help with Lori…but the man was older…injured…and might not even be alive months from now when the Grimes family would need him the most. When Daryl looked at the woman beside him, it wasn't the idea of a baby that scared him, but the thought Carol could be killed during labor…or even from some complication before the birth.

He was so quiet and Carol just wanted him to relax. "Daryl, I swear. I can't get pregnant…you really don't need to worry."

The hunter eyed her and tightened his grip on her knee. "Even if ya could…even if ya did…" he paused, considering what he was about to say. "I wouldn't be goin' nowhere." He waited anxiously for her to say something.

The weight of his words was not lost on her. Feeling her chest tighten, she leaned into his side, careful not to hurt his bruised shoulder. "You didn't need to say that." she whispered, her eyes closing. "But I'm glad you did."

Daryl could feel the relief pouring off of her and he brushed the top of her head with a quick kiss. Desperately wanting to lighten the mood, the hunter ran his free hand along her back, gently rubbing her. "I'm clean by the way."

Carol's eyes flew open and she pushed away from him, her lips parting in awe. He was smirking at her. "In case you were wonderin'." he added.

Carol's mouth opened and closed but she couldn't speak as a blush came to her cheeks…the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "Jesus…" she said, bringing one hand up to cup her forehead. "Daryl, I never thought…..I didn't even…God. We really weren't thinking."

He chuckled. "Nope. Least not about rubbers."

She smacked his arm again, shaking her head in disbelief. She studied the man beside her and narrowed her eyes in skepticism. "Okay, so what if I hadn't been a sexual daredevil. What if I'd actually had the good sense to ask you to use one? What would you have done? Do you even have any?"

It was his turn to blush. "Naw; ain't got any. Didn't think I'd be needin' 'em any time soon."

"So we would've missed out on all this?" she asked, gesturing to the tent around them.

Daryl snorted. "Naw…just woulda taken longer to get there. Woulda had to make a detour, head back to the house and go through Glen's shit till I found one. I'm guessin' the kid's the only one that's got 'em."

Carol couldn't help it, she had to laugh. "You don't think he knows exactly how many he has? I feel like he would notice if one went missing."

"One goddamn rubber?" he asked.

"I'm sure it's a precious resource as far as he's concerned." she laughed again.

"Good lord…" Daryl sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He waited for her laughter to die down. "You sayin' you want some?" He was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Carol studied him before leaning over and placing a quick kiss to the bruised spot on his shoulder. "No. You're not gonna knock me up, and I'm not gonna catch anything…so why bother?" she said matter-of-factly, a smile on her lips.

Daryl shook his head, smirking at her. "Well ain't you romantic…" They both chuckled at that. As they sat together, their minds still a bit hazy from their climaxes, Carol realized that they'd both made the same assumption.

"Hang on," she said, staring up into his face. "You asked if I wanted to use them…and I said no…so it seems…" she paused, smiling at him. "That we've already decided we're gonna do this again?"

Daryl found her statement amusing. "Guess so." he answered, running a broad hand through his hair.

Carol felt a flush spreading over her body. "So," she added. "You definitely want to then?"

The hunter reached out, placing his palm flat on her chest; she didn't have time to react before he pushed her gently onto her back. Hovering over her, he let his hand roam down, past her breast, across her tight stomach, down lower until her felt her clit. She gasped as he started to rub it. "Don't it feel like I wanna do it again?" he asked.

Carol managed a nod as she sat up and pushed his hand away. Her legs clamped shut again and her thin arms circled her knees. "Not sure I'm ready for any of that just yet…I'm still….sensitive."

Daryl found that idea incredibly intriguing. "What's it feel like?" he asked. "You said there was a stabbin' pain before…"

After everything they'd been through together..everything they'd shared, Carol almost felt silly blushing in front of him, but she couldn't help it. "It's very….sore." she said, hiding her face in her knees.

Daryl felt a sudden pang of guilt. "I'm sorry…" he said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt ya."

She lifted her chin to look at him. "Don't be sorry; I wouldn't change anything about what we did. I'm just not used to you yet. That being said…I think we both lost control at some point. I mean…I don't know about you, but that was, by far, the most intense sex I've ever had."

The hunter's mouth was going dry as he remembered the way his body collided with hers, over and over…the way she'd been wrapped around him…the sound of her screaming and swearing… "Shit was wild…" he muttered under his breath, as if he were speaking to himself.

"That's one way to put it." she chuckled. "I really am sore though."

"You 'n me both." he admitted.

"You might have to carry me back to that house," she teased.

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm not sure I can walk straight." she laughed.

"Lord…" Daryl sighed.

"We might've gone a little too far with the rough-housing." said Carol as she studied the small bite marks she'd left on his neck.

It was then that the hunter seemed to see her for the first time. She was almost glowing…a fine sheen of sweat still glistening all over her body. He saw the purple mark on her breast where he'd bitten the soft flesh…she had matching bruises on both shoulders, her bottom lip was slightly swollen…there was a large hickie on the crook of her neck. Daryl hadn't realized that he'd been so rough with her. Carol saw the way he was staring at her and she smiled at him. "Don't worry…they'll heal. I'm a fan of the biting and you have my blessing to do it as often as you'd like. I'm pretty sure I've got one on my thigh too." she giggled. "And you've got one…" she inched closer to him and let her fingers brush the marks on his neck.

Daryl shivered at the light touch and leaned into her until his forehead was resting against hers. She smiled at him and moved to wrap her arms around him, but something made her freeze. When she reached around to grip him, she felt something wet and sticky just under his shoulder blade. Carol quickly withdrew her hand and stared hard at the stains on her fingertips…blood. "Oh god…" she breathed, shame creeping into her consciousness.

Daryl gently gripped her wrist so that he could study her hand. The sticky red liquid was drying quickly. The hunter carefully reached back to try and find the wound, but Carol stopped him. "Here; turn around. Let me see."

"It ain't nothin'" he grunted as his body twisted.

But Carol's lips parted in disbelief when she was finally able to see the four, long, vertical lines below his shoulder blade…the place where her nails had dug mercilessly into his flesh, breaking the skin. The four scarlet cuts looked raw, angry, and blood had dripped from each of them, leaving sticky trails down his back. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the damage. "Daryl…" she breathed, "I'm so sorry…I didn't know what I was doing…"

"Carol, quit." he growled. "I'm a fan. Didn't even feel it when you was scratchin' me…'n you didn't know what you were doin' because we were both busy…That there..." He said as his hand reached around to find the claw marks, "Just means you were havin' a good time. That's all."

Carol wasn't convinced. All she could see was the blood, bright and angry against his skin. She sat in silence, her mind filling with guilt over what she'd done to him. Sensing that this was troubling her, Daryl twisted back around to face her. "Don't go wastin' time beatin' yourself up over it..." he said. "Few scratches ain't enough to break me." The hunter smirked at her.

"I'm just sorry I hurt you..." she said, her voice hushed.

He reached out, letting his fingers run along each of her shoulders; he lingered over the large hickie at the crook of her neck. "You tellin' me this is okay, but the scratchin' aint?"

"That's different..."

"It's the same," he insisted, his eyes intently focused on her face.

After several seconds of heavy silence, she met his gaze. "You're sure?" she asked.

The hunter nodded. Before she could respond, he leaned in, kissing her. His mouth worked against hers, forcing her to open for him. His warm tongue pushed past hers and they held the connection. When he finally pulled away, Carol's breathing had picked up and there was a dazed look on her face. He was still close to her...he could feel her breath hit his lips. "If you ever feel the need...scratch me, bite me, scream, swear...Don't go holdin' back..." he growled softly, his eyes cutting into her.

She was powerless against those eyes and that voice. All Carol could do was nod. They stared at one another, each of them wondering when they'd have another opportunity to enjoy each other, physically. Knowing that they'd never leave the tent if they kept kissing, staring and talking, Daryl made himself speak. "Thought you said ya had to take a piss."

Carol had to laugh. This was the person she loved...the only person alive that she felt comfortable enough to share her body with. Her friend, her world...and she supposed he was her lover now. That term seemed strange, but she wasn't sure what else to call him. Partner, perhaps... All labels aside, he was the one she felt closest to. Even with his scars, his temper, his lack of finesse, and his less-than delicate phrasing, Carol couldn't help but think that he was perfect. He was real...honest, and she wouldn't change a single thing about him. "Yes; I do." she said, smiling.

Daryl took a moment to glance around the tent, his eyes seeking out their scattered clothes. When he refocused on her, he reached out to let his hand trail lightly down her arm. "Guess that means ya gotta get dressed?" He said softly.

Carol sighed, gooseflesh rising on her arm where he touched her. "Unfortunately."

"That's a shame." He growled under his breath.

Carol giggled nervously. "Can't very well walk back to the house naked, now can I?"

He snorted, smirking at her. "Quit teasin'."

She laughed again and planted a quick kiss to his lips. Suddenly, another thought entered her hazy mind. "You gonna join me?" she asked.

A crease was forming in Daryl's brow as he considered her question. She continued to stare at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and fear. Carol could see that he was confused. She forced a small, nervous cough and ran her fingers through her hair. "At the house I mean. We're you gonna head up there?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, his voice low.

Carol shrugged, looking away. "I don't know. I guess I'm just not sure what happens now...with us."

It was then that the hunter understood. In addition to condoms, there seemed to be a number of things that the two survivors neglected to consider before taking their relationship to a physical level. Should they treat each other differently? Should they tell the others that their relationship had changed? Daryl didn't know what to call whatever it was that him and Carol were.

Does that even matter?

He wondered if there was even a need to put a label on it. All he knew was that they shared a connection and he wanted to stay close to her. They'd had their share of arguments…disagreements and outbursts, but in the end, they always seemed to find their way back to one another. They got along, which was more than Daryl could say about most of the people he'd encountered in his life. They had a strange chemistry, that the hunter suspected was due in part to the lives they'd led before the world ended. Daryl was fascinated by the fact that they'd tolerated one another long enough to actually form a shaky friendship, and that their chemistry had translated so well into sexual compatibility. He knew that their relationship, if that's what it could be called, was something he needed; the hunter didn't want to consider the possibility of going back to whatever they'd been before she kissed him…but he was still scared. His thoughts drifted to the other members of their group.

Would they care?

He knew they weren't the type of people to judge him…to look down on him. But how he could he tell them about his….about him and Carol's….

Lord…

Carol could see the shadows crossing his face and she sighed softly, causing him to glance at her. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do…" she said, but he cut her off.

"I know. Jus…I'm tryin' to figure all this out…"

"We don't have to say anything to anyone." she said, as rain continued to pelt the roof above them.

He nodded, considering her words, but then he lifted his chin to meet her gaze. "Ain't gotta hide it neither."

A small smile was tugging at the corner of Carol's mouth. "You sure about that? I know how you like your space, and keeping everybody out of your business…"

Daryl shrugged. "It ain't that I don't wanna say nothin'…jus….don't know exactly what to call this here." He gestured to the space between them.

Carol reached out to brush some hair back from his forehead. "You don't have to call it anything," she said, smiling softly at him. It's just you…and me. Same as always."

The hunter snorted and narrowed his eyes. "Ain't the same."

"It is." She took a moment to look him up and down, enjoying all the slick, sweaty skin that was still on display for her. "Just with less clothing…"

Daryl smirked, leaning forward he gripped both of her thighs. "I'm likin' that part."

She kissed him, catching his bottom lip and holding it carefully between her teeth. "Me too." she said. "Now how about we head back?"

The hunter felt desire flickering inside him again as she bit his lip. All he could do was nod.

When she released him, she stayed close…her forehead leaning against his. "We go back…we don't have to say anything. If they decide to make their own assumptions…that's their business. That okay?" she said softly.

He nodded again. "What about later?" he asked in a low growl.

Carol sighed, her eyes closing for a moment. As much as she wanted to keep him close, she knew that she couldn't make demands. Daryl had always been a solitary creature and she didn't want to pressure him. "That's up to you," she whispered, her eyes opening slowly. Carol took a second to glance around the tent. "You can sleep here…I'd rather you didn't…" she admitted with a small smile.

He focused on the woman that was sitting so close to him. "Where you plannin' to bed down?" he asked.

She giggled nervously. "I'll be in the house. Everyone's camped out in the living room right now, but I heard there's a few spare rooms."

Daryl grunted softly, considering her words. "Sounds good to me." he said, a hint of color coming to his cheeks.

Carol eased back slightly so she could look at him. "That mean you're coming?" she asked, at once hopeful and excited.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Can't even remember the last time I slept in a damn house…or in a bed for that matter."

Carol smiled at him. "At the farm, when you were hurt." The memory was causing her smile to fade.

Daryl leaned in, kissing her soft and quick. "Got a feelin' it won't be so bad this time." He smirked at her and she couldn't help but smile back. "Best get a move on." he said "Before I change my mind."

She gave him one last kiss, both of them chuckling. When they separated, they looked around the tent, trying to locate their scattered clothes. Their sore, aching muscles protested when they began to move and collect their things. As Carol sat, fastening her bra, she heard Daryl call her.

"Hey," he said.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at him. "What?"

He smirked back as he tossed Carol her panties. They hit her in the shoulder and she giggled as she pulled them back on. They continued to steal glances at one another as they dressed, each of them sorry to lose all the exposed skin they'd been enjoying for the last hour. Carol didn't even bother to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw him stand and force one foot down into his jeans. He worked the denim up his legs, but froze with his hands on the zipper. He looked at Carol's pained expression and wanted to laugh. "Quit." he huffed.

"What?" she asked. "It's like you said…all these clothes…" she shook her head slowly and sighed. "It's a shame."

He snorted, pulling the zipper up. "Ain't plannin' on wearin' em any longer than I gotta." he said, eyeing her.

"Me neither," she laughed.

They both refocused on getting dressed, each of them amazed by what had taken place in the tent…and each of them wondering what the rest of the day held in store for them. Carol lay on her back, shimmying her pants up to her hips. When she pushed the button through the hole, she cleared her throat to get Daryl's attention. He was standing, staring down at her. "Need somethin'?" he asked.

She laughed lightly. "Think I need help getting up."

The hunter shook his head for a moment before bending down and gripping her hand in his. With a grunt, he hauled her off the ground. His hands went instinctively to her waist, holding her up as she stood on shaky legs. "Ya alright?"

She groaned, her eyes squeezing shut as she clenched the front of his shirt in her fists. "Mhmm," she managed to say. When her eyes opened, she was staring up into his concerned face. "Just sore. I wasn't kidding when I said you might have to carry me back." a weak laugh escaped her.

He snorted. "I will if ya want me to."

Carol felt her chest tighten at the simple yet startlingly kind offer. "No," she sighed. "I better walk…need to get it down by the time we reach the house. Appearances." she said, smiling at him.

The hunter hated that she was uncomfortable, but he couldn't help the sense of pride he that came with knowing he'd made her sore…to the point that she had to practice walking…. "What?" he asked. "Think somebody's gonna take one look at ya and know what we were doin' out here?"

She chuckled. "Maybe."

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "I got my own problems." he glanced down at the wet spot on his jeans…evidence of his time with her.

Carol smirked at him. "It's pouring out there…the second we go outside, we're both gonna get soaked. I wouldn't worry about that." she gestured to his crotch.

"Guess you're right." he admitted. Daryl walked to the corner of the tent and grabbed his ruck-sack and bow. He'd gathered his belongings and they both began heading towards the tent flap, but then Carol stopped. "What is it?" he asked, staring at her.

She bit her lip, grunting as she stooped to grab the thin sheet that lay wrinkled on the floor. Carol worked quickly, gathering the thin material and hastily folding it. When she was standing again, she shoved the sheet into Daryl's ruck sack. "Wanted to have it…for later." she said softly, a blush coming to her cheeks.

But she didn't need to explain. Daryl understood. It was hard enough for them to leave the tent behind…the small oasis they'd created for themselves. He knew that she wasn't willing to leave the sheet there…the sheet that they'd stained with sweat and blood…the fabric they'd both clenched in damp fists…the sheet they'd lain on as their bodies struggled with insatiable hunger, working desperately against each other. They couldn't leave it behind. Their eyes met, and a silent agreement passed between them. Daryl knew that material possessions didn't last long in a world like theirs, but he was determined to hold onto that sheet for as long as he could. It smelled like her…like them…it was proof.

"Come on," he urged softly, his fingers going to the zipper of the tent flap.

She took a deep breath and nodded, her hand seeking his. They held the connection as he tugged the zipper down and pulled her out of the tent. She gasped the instant they stepped out into the cold rain. Daryl swore and closed the flap behind them. There was no time for the survivors to second guess their decision. The heavy droplets were coming down hard, pelting them, almost stinging…and the wind had picked up, chilling them. Thunder was still groaning somewhere in the distance and they stared at each other for half a heartbeat, water rolling down their faces. Carol was breathless as she studied the man she loved. The rain was seeping quickly through their clothes…

This is how it all started….

Carol remembered the fear that had churned violently inside her as she ran out over the grass, closing the gap between them…not knowing whether or not she'd be ruining whatever connection they shared. She'd been filled with fear and adrenaline…terrible doubt, but she'd made herself kiss him. She'd risked everything…and now, as she stood in the rain again…clear droplets slipping from the ends of her hair, she knew that she'd made the right choice. They were right where they always should've been…together. Suddenly, Daryl was tightening his grip on her hand, and pulling. "Come on!" he called out…the words almost lost in the pounding of the rain. And then they were moving. She hardly felt the ground beneath her feet as they took off running towards the house. She knew that there was cool air rushing past her, and drops of water were stinging her eyes, rolling down her neck..making her shiver…but the only thing that mattered, was Daryl's strong, warm hand curled around hers.

Carl jumped from his seat on the sofa when he heard the pounding on the door. Lori moved to grab him but he was up and across the room in a matter of seconds. The boy's eyes were wide and curious as he approached the door. He could hear yelling outside…

"Hey! Ya'll open up!"

Recognizing the voice, Carl unlocked the door and turned the knob. The boy nearly stumbled as Daryl pushed his way inside, dragging Carol after him. As the two adults stood in the entryway, their clothes dripping, creating small puddles on the wood floor, Carl quickly shut the door, making sure to lock it. "You guys okay?" he asked, tipping his Stetson back.

Daryl and Carol took a second to glance around the room. Their companions were staring at them. Nearly everyone was still hunkered down in the living room and now all eyes seemed to be fixed on them. Daryl was getting nervous; unsure of what to say, he snorted and shook his hair like a wet dog, sending droplets in every direction. "Yeah," he said, releasing Carol's hand. "We're fine. It's just gettin' bad out there..that's all."

Carol hugged herself and wished that everyone would stop staring. She stood awkwardly behind Daryl and shivered. After several seconds of silence, Lori rose from the sofa and started moving towards them. "We brought all the bags in," she said, gesturing to the belongings that lay scattered around the room. "I'm sure there's some dry clothes that'll fit you both."

Daryl answered with a stiff nod and moved past the dark haired woman. Lori stood beside Carol, looking the poor woman up and down. "You're soaked…Let me find you something…"

Carol held one hand out, warding off Lori's advances. "That's alright; I really just need to use the bathroom." she forced a small smile.

"Sure. It's right down the hall…I can show you.." She pointed in the direction of the small, first-floor bathroom.

"No; I've got it." said Carol, a smile still on her lips. "If you could just let Rick know we're back?"

"Yeah," Lori answered. "Of course."

"Thanks. I'll be back." With that, Carol hurried to find some much needed solitude.

Lori stood in the entryway, a confused look on her face as she watched her friend disappear down the nearest hallway.

Daryl was hunched over one of the duffel bags, trying desperately not to make eye contact with anyone. But in the next instant, Glenn was kneeling beside him. "Hey; need any help? I was going through some of this stuff earlier." said the younger man.

The hunter grunted. "Naw. I got it."

Glenn looked over his shoulder at Maggie but all she did was shrug. "Alright," he said, clapping a hand on Daryl's back. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Daryl nodded and quietly wondered why in the hell he felt more naked now than he had in the tent with Carol. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled a plain black t shirt and a fresh pair of jeans from the bag. Without a word to anyone, he stood and made his way back across the living room. The sound of his heavy footsteps seemed to echo throughout the entire house and he winced as he walked down the same hall that lead to the bathroom. The other survivors watched him go.

As soon as he'd disappeared, Andrea and T-Dog emerged from the kitchen. They walked through the dining room until they were standing in the entryway with Carl and Lori. Andrea glanced at the floor, noticing the broken trail of puddles. She lifted her chin and met Lori's gaze. "Was that Daryl and Carol?"

The dark-haired woman nodded. "Yeah. Looks like they really got caught in it out there." She eyed one of the living room windows. Cool beads of water were sliding down the glass pane.

"They alright?" T-Dog asked, trying to sound concerned.

"They seemed okay." said Carl. "Guess Daryl doesn't wanna stay out there anymore."

T-Dog chuckled. "Can't blame him."

Lori folded her arms across her chest and sighed. "All it took was a storm to get him in here."

Andrea smiled. "I sent Carol out there to try to convince him to bunk with us."

"Guess it worked." said Lori. "Never thought I'd see the day. Rick's gonna be glad to have everyone inside."

"You see where they went?" T-Dog asked.

"Carol was looking for the bathroom. I think they were gonna get cleaned up and change." said Glenn from the living room.

"Separately?" T-Dog muttered to Andrea.

She smacked his arm. "Stop."

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

In the safety of the bathroom, Carol was pressing a soft, clean hand towel to her face. As she tried to soak up as much of the rain water as she could, thoughts began spinning in her skull.

What if this is too much?

She pushed the small towel up into her hair, trying to dry it. When she felt that she'd done all she could do, she hung the damp cloth on a decorative ring that was fixed to the wall. Her small hands gripped the sink and she leaned forward studying herself in the oval mirror.

We decided on this together…I gave him a choice…he wanted to come back…to stay in the house.

Trying to convince herself that she hadn't pressured him, and that they could both handle this, Carol tightened her grip on the porcelain. She bowed her head, blowing out a breath. For some reason, she was fixated on the way that everyone had stared at them when they'd burst through that door, shivering, wet..hands clasped…

Why does it matter what they think? It doesn't. All that matters is how you feel…how he feels.

When she lifted her chin and stared at her reflection, Carol seemed to experience a revelation. Back in the tent, she'd told Daryl that nothing had changed…they were still the same people they'd always been…but it wasn't true. The woman staring back at her was different. Carol took in all the familiar details of her own face...but something had changed. The blue of her eyes was brighter, as if some unseen force was burning behind them. She reached up, running her shaking fingers through her damp locks. For some reason, her hair didn't seem so grey…in fact, she found herself smiling softly at the short, messy locks. When she smiled, her lips seemed fuller. She knew that her bottom lip was swollen from Daryl biting it, but even so…she couldn't help but think that she looked different…better. The smile brought color to her cheeks, making her feel like she was glowing. The longer she stared at her reflection, the more startling the differences became. The freckles she'd always hated almost seemed youthful on the bridge of her nose. She hesitantly let her hand slip from her hair and move lightly along the length of her neck. Her fingertips paused over the bruises that Daryl had left her with. Her smile widened and she seemed to forget every scar…every flaw. Carol stood in front of the sink, studying the woman in the mirror…the woman she'd become. Joy was flickering inside her, warming her skin, and Carol suddenly understood. Something was taking place…and she found herself thinking something that she'd never thought before…that the woman in the mirror was beautiful. She felt beautiful…because of him. The way he'd touched her, loved her, spoken to her…she couldn't help but to feel beautiful and wanted. The sensation was incredible and Carol brought one hand up to cover her mouth as her eyes began to grow warm with unshed tears.

Daryl stepped into the first bedroom he'd found after wandering down the hallway. He closed the door behind him, locking it. The hunter only allowed himself to breathe when he knew that he was completely alone. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, his head going back to rest on the cool wood. After several seconds, his heart rate began to slow and he slowly opened his eyes. He studied the small room. A twin bed occupied most of the space; there were large windows on either side of the bed, thin white curtains serving as the only decoration. On the far end of the room stood a simple chest of drawers. He took note of another door that he supposed led to a small closet. The room might've been small, but Daryl couldn't help but think that it was perfect. He found himself thinking about how it would feel to finally lay down and rest on a real bed…what a welcome relief it would be to his bruised and aching body. And in his mind's eye, he saw Carol lying there with him. That's when it struck Daryl.

Don't matter what they think…

He'd never shared his bed with anyone…he'd never wanted to. But now that they'd been together…now that they'd been as physically close as two people can get, he wanted to keep it that way. The hunter was in awe. Isolation had always been his habit, his comfort…and now he couldn't imagine being alone. It wasn't even a question; Daryl simply assumed that wherever he slept…Carol would be there with him. With his mind made up, he pulled the damp shirt off. As the heavy fabric was peeled away from his body, Daryl remembered the way it felt when Carol rubbed his shoulders…the way her thumbs pressed in near his spine, driving out pain…he wanted to feel that again. He let the wet shirt fall to the ground with a loud slap. The hunter carefully stepped out of his jeans and began pulling on the clean clothes. When the soft, dry fabric hit his skin, he groaned. He wasn't sure if it was the thought of spending the night with Carol, or the dry clothes…but Daryl felt good…warm. The water was drying in his hair and he stood, hands on his hips, staring at the small bed…the one they would share. He took a few steps towards it and reached out, letting his hand rest on the soft sheet, fingers splaying over the fabric. Daryl knew he'd have to ask her, but he felt that she would say yes. The voice in his head was telling him that he'd made the right choice.

Feeling so excited, hopeful, and impatient, Carol stood smiling at her reflection. Her heart rate was speeding up and she had to remind herself to breathe. Every nerve ending began to vibrate and joyful tears were still shining in her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Suddenly, the bathroom seemed so small…as if it couldn't contain the woman standing in front of the mirror. Carol felt like the strong wave of emotions, that was still rising inside her, was going to crash…and all the words she couldn't say, and the things she'd never allowed herself to believe would wash over her, overwhelm her…. Her lips parted in awe as she slowly lifted one hand and stared at it; her fingers were shaking…her whole body seemed to tremble with nervous energy. Carol was so intently focused on her hand that she nearly jumped when she heard a light tapping on the bathroom door. Her heart skipped a beat and she sucked in a sharp breath. Clearing her throat and working desperately to calm herself, Carol forced her trembling fingers to curl around the doorknob. She jerked the door open quickly to reveal a familiar face.

"Hey," said Andrea.

Carol blinked a few times in an attempt to get her bearings. She'd been so lost in thoughts of Daryl, and the possibility of her and Daryl together… that she hadn't expected to see anyone else at the door. "H-hey." she managed to say, her arms folding quickly across her chest.

"Didn't mean to bother you; just wanted to give you these." The blonde woman held out a bundle of clean clothes.

Amazed by her friend's simple act of kindness, Carol accepted the offering. "Thank you." she said softly.

The two women stood in awkward silence, each of them staring at their shoes. Andrea was torn. Part of her wanted to say something, but she didn't want to make Carol uncomfortable. On the other hand, she wondered if it might be to Carol and Daryl's advantage to have someone to have someone in the know…someone who might be able to help them out of a sticky spot if they ever found themselves in one.

The others will find out eventually…

When she lifted her chin and studied her friend, Andrea couldn't help but to focus on all the little signs….things the others might not notice right away. Carol's lower lip was swollen and her cheeks were flushed. When Andrea looked harder, she saw the marks on Carol's neck…she had them on either side, small purple bruises…then a larger mark…

A damn hickie? Really?

She believed T-Dog when he told her he'd heard them…but seeing the undeniable proof for herself was different. It was difficult to accept the fact that Daryl had gotten close enough to another person to leave a hickie. Andrea's shock must have been evident on her face because Carol's hand suddenly flew to the large mark on her neck, covering it. When their eyes met, the two women stared hard at one another.

Carol was gnawing her lip hard, unsure of what to say…her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. Andrea could see how much this was weighing on her friend. She wanted to say something but she didn't even know how to begin to address the issue. Carol looked scared, as if she was afraid of Andrea's judgment…her reaction. Wanting her friend to know that she had nothing to worry about, the blonde woman's expression softened into a smile.

The instant that Andrea smiled, Carol's heart rate began to slow and her body started to relax. She found herself smiling back, unable to hide the joy that was filling her up, and making her feel weightless all at once. Needing to release some of the happiness bubbling under her skin, Carol dropped the clean clothes and closed the gap between her body and Andrea's, her thin arms embracing the younger woman. Andrea hugged her back and the two of them stood in the doorway of the small bathroom, clinging to one another. With her chin resting on Andrea's shoulder, Carol finally let a happy tear slip from the corner of her eye. She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and kept herself pressed close to her friend.

Andrea was gently rubbing Carol's back. After several seconds, she whispered. "So when I asked you to go out there to talk to him…"

Carol couldn't help the small chuckle that burst from her lips.

"What exactly did you say?" Andrea asked.

Carol chuckled again, hugging the younger woman tighter. "I….I just…we…."

"Hey," said Andrea, "It's fine. You don't need to explain. If you're happy, then I'm happy." She carefully eased back, giving them both a bit of breathing room.

Carol reached up to wipe at her eyes and continued to smile at her friend. "I'm happy."

Andrea gripped Carol's shoulder, rubbing it. "That's all that matters. I won't say anything to anyone."

All Carol could manage was a nod.

"I'll leave you to your peace," said Andrea as she turned to go. Before she could get too far, the younger woman glanced over her shoulder. "But I would like to hear about that talk you two had…someday." With a smirk, she disappeared down the hall.

Carol laughed as she felt herself blushing. Delirious, happy, she stooped to collect the clean clothes that she'd dropped. Withdrawing into the safety of the bathroom, Carol pulled the door closed and quickly began to change. the shirt and pants that Andrea had given her were both a bit big. The jeans sat a little low on her hips and the navy blue top seemed loose on her slight frame but she couldn't complain. It felt so good to be dry…to be somewhat clean. She studied the woman in the mirror one last time, a pang of guilt stabbing at her consciousness. Her clothes had gotten so wet in the rain, she didn't want to spend the rest of the night shivering in damp underwear. She'd unfastened her bra and slid her panties down her legs before pulling on the fresh clothes. Carol had never done anything like this…she felt reckless, brazen…exposed. But underneath it all, she felt something else…She supposed it was silly, with all the other concerns the group faced on a daily basis. Maybe it was foolish of her to worry about something as trivial as her appearance, but as she stared at the low neckline of her long-sleeve navy shirt, Carol Peletier felt sexy. He did this to her…he made her feel wanted and startlingly alive. In the midst of so much tragedy and loss, she'd found someone that still had the power to make her hopeful…to brighten her when the world was at its darkest…and that meant everything. She was suddenly filled with a strong desire to see him…to be close to him. After running her fingers quickly through her mussed, wet hair, and adjusting her blouse so that she didn't feel completely ridiculous, she gathered up her wet clothes and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. She was just pulling the door closed when she turned and found herself face to face with Daryl.

An involuntary gasp escaped before she realized who it was. "Hey," she breathed, trying to get her nerves in check. She still hand one hand curled around the doorknob.

The hunter took a hesitant step back, giving her the room he thought she needed. He began wringing his hands anxiously, his eyes on the floor. "Hey," he mumbled under his breath.

Carol clutched the doorknob tighter and wondered what on earth was wrong with the two of them.

We've seen each other naked…and now we can't handle basic interaction?

She didn't understand and she figured he didn't either. Clearing her throat, she made herself speak. "You get cleaned up?" she asked, eyeing his clothes.

"Naw," he grunted softly, his eyes flicking to her face. "Just changed. You?"

She released the knob and hefted the wet bundle in her arms. "Had to get out of these. Andrea brought me some things." She glanced down nervously at her outfit before meeting his gaze.

It was then that Daryl noticed she was wearing different clothes. He took note of the jeans, her shirt…and then he froze. All of his focus was on the dip in her cleavage, he could see enough of her to know that the only thing under that top was skin.

Carol tugged at the neckline of her shirt, trying to bring it up higher, and pulling him from his trance. The motion of her hand made Daryl blink and he refocused on her face. "Ya ain't got nothin' on under that?" he asked.

She blushed and shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Daryl moved closer to her; before she could stop him, he reached out and touched her chest, his fingers splaying carefully just above her cleavage. His eyes sought hers, seeking permission. She swallowed hard and nodded. With the tip of his tongue resting between his lips, the hunter let his hand slip lower until his fingertips were curling around the neckline of her shirt. He tugged the fabric just enough to reveal more of her cleavage; he had to stifle a groan when he felt his knuckles brush the softness of her breasts that were still partially hidden by her shirt. Carol shivered at the contact and closed her eyes for a moment.

"This…" he breathed, his gaze lingering on her chest, "Is gonna be distractin'."

Carol was working to maintain control…having him so close…saying those things…it was enough to make her want to drag him into the bathroom with her. She considered the idea before blinking and clearing her head. When she met his gaze, she was smiling softly at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can try and find something else…"

"Naw," Daryl grunted, shaking his head. "I like it." He slowly uncurled his fingers, releasing her. They stared at one another, hearts beating just a bit harder than they had been a moment ago. Remembering the whole reason he'd sought her out, Daryl gestured behind him, at a half-open door further down the hall. "Found a room." he growled.

They stood in silence, each afraid to say what they were thinking. Knowing that actions spoke louder than words, Daryl motioned for her to follow him. He lead her down the hall, each of them treading lightly so as not to attract unwanted attention. When they reached the guest room, Daryl pushed the door open for her, letting her step past him to get inside. She knelt to set her wet clothes on the floor beside his, and when she stood, Carol hugged herself and took a moment to study the small space. "Decent guest room." she said.

Daryl lingered nervously in the doorway. "Thought maybe…it'd be a good spot…" he said as he brought his thumb to his mouth and began to chew the nail.

Carol turned around and stared at him. "For…?" her voice trailed off as she tried to extract an answer from him.

The hunter spat out a nail fragment and huffed before meeting her gaze. "For tonight." he said.

Carol's lips parted when she heard his simple answer. The small smile was still on her face and she took a slow step in his direction. "You saying you wanna sleep here?" she asked.

He kicked absently at the floor. "Not alone..."

She froze when a few feet remained between them, his words sinking in… "You sure about that?" she asked, the shock evident in her voice.

Daryl glanced up at her and nodded.

"So you're not worried about what anyone might say?"

The hunter snorted. "I ain't made a habit of worryin' 'bout it in the past. Figure…" he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "They can say what they wanna. Don't matter."

Carol took another step towards him, a smug smile on her face. "Now look who's romantic." she chuckled.

He snorted again, narrowing his eyes at her. "Quit."

But she kept walking, getting closer. Daryl fumbled with the door behind him, closing it. When just a few feet remained between them, she smirked and held out her hand. The hunter stared at her, confused. She glanced at her hand before meeting his gaze again. "Seems like we've made up our minds," said Carol. "At least for now…so let's do this."

The corner of Daryl's mouth hitched up in amusement as he reached for her hand, gripping it firmly. With their eyes locked on one another, and their hands clasped, Carol and Daryl shook on it, solidifying their new agreement. As they continued to slowly shake hands, they both chuckled. The longer they held the connection, the harder it became to let go. Seized by a sudden, terrible hunger, Carol began walking backwards until she felt her back hit the nearest wall…she pulled Daryl along with her. They were close… she was trapped between his body and the wall. The hunter stared down at her, wanting nothing more than to pull at her clothes until she was naked. His breathing picked up as he placed his palms flat on the wall, bracing himself. His head hung low and his eyes burned into her. She stared up at him, wishing he would collide with her. As heat continued to build between them, they each wondered whether or not there was enough time…They were alone, if only for a moment. Unable to wait any longer, Carol stood on her toes and kissed him. Daryl growled, kissing her back, loving the way her lips felt against his. His hands were still on the wall but his arms were shaking and his fingertips flexed, clawing at the paint on the wall. He was fighting to keep from touching her. Carol let the taste of him fill her mouth as his tongue pushed past hers. They both groaned at the feeling and Daryl couldn't help but to buck his hips. Carol gasped when she felt his body push against hers. The kiss deepened, neither wanting to let the other go. The hunter moved his hips again and Carol whimpered. That soft, desperate sound echoed in the hunter's ears and he wanted so badly to hear it again; he clawed harder at the wall. Carol's hands were gently gripping his neck, keeping their mouths together. She felt his teeth sink into her lip, making her moan. When they finally had to break apart for air, they were still staring intently at one another. "We can't…." Carol breathed. "Now now…"

Daryl licked his lips and nodded. "I know."

"We need to stop…" she said, the notes of desperation evident in her voice.

Daryl nodded again, "I know." but even as the words fell from the end of his tongue, he moved back in and kissed her hard. She was so soft…pliant as he kissed her. His mouth worked hungrily at hers, and one of her hands found its way into his hair, fingers tangling there. They were panting against each other's lips and Daryl slid his tongue under hers one last time before making himself pull away. She was panting, her eyes clouded with want as she stared at him. "Later…" he breathed.

Carol nodded and slowly withdrew her hand from his damp hair. "Later." she echoed.

As they worked to slow their breathing, Daryl took several steps back, separating himself from her. One hand was on his hip while the other ran through his hair. Muttering soft curses under his breath, the hunter began pacing slowly, making his way back and forth across the small room.

Carol's arms were folded across her chest as she watched him; the wall was still at her back, supporting her. "You okay?" she asked.

He stopped pacing long enough to turn and face her. "Yeah…just need a minute."

It only took Carol a moment to notice the obvious evidence of his arousal. She was already flustered…but the fact that she knew exactly what was waiting for her under his clothes made it worse. Her eyes flicked to the bed…

Maybe there's time?

All she needed to do was ditch her jeans…get him on his back, tug at his zipper and pull his pants down just enough…just to his hips… The startlingly vivid images flashing in Carol's mind made her heart thrum. She was sure she'd never had such carnal thoughts in her entire life.

Jesus…relax. You're in a house, filled with people…kids…you can't just jump into the first bed you find. This has to wait…

But her mind and her body were at odds. She wanted him, and part of her didn't care about the fact that anyone could walk into the room…see them…hear them… Daryl could see the change taking place in her; he followed her gaze and noticed that she was staring at his groin. There was a low growl coming from deep in his chest and the sound seemed to rouse her from her thoughts. "That ain't helpin'" he said.

Carol blinked a few times before she realized that she'd been openly staring at his erection. Feeling foolish, she blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry…" she mumbled.

The hunter blew out a breath. "It's fine. I like it…when ya look at me. Just…right now…I'm thinkin' if ya keep starin', this ain't gonna go away." He felt his cheeks burn with the admission.

A nervous chuckle burst from her lips. "I'm sorry. I should go. I'll see you out there soon? Hopefully?" Her eyes were bright as she stared at him, and she was gnawing the corner of her bottom lip.

Daryl had to stifle a groan as the pain below his waist intensified. The way her teeth were holding her lip…something about it made him want her…then and there. "Like I said," he managed, the words coming out strained. "Just need a minute."

"Sure." she whispered, as she pushed herself away from the wall and turned to leave. With her hand on the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder and gave him one last, lingering look. "Remember," she smiled. "We can do this. Okay?"

He smirked at her and nodded.

With that, Carol pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, hoping that a bit of separation would help to clear her head.

The storm seemed to grow worse as the hours passed. A strong, violent wind was driving the rain hard against the window panes…heavy droplets pelting the glass mercilessly. Gradually, the survivors grew brave enough to explore the rest of the house. Rick gave them the go-ahead to check out the second story and they crept quietly up the stairs, opening doors and peeking into empty rooms. Heeding their leaders instructions, they avoided the master bedroom. Supplies were salvaged from the children's rooms…blankets, sheets, pillows. Towels were taken from the second bathroom. Anything useful was collected and carried back down to the first floor. By the time that evening fell, the survivors had an established camp in the living room.

The duffel bags had been sorted, and food was rationed…divided amongst the survivors. A table had been pushed against the front door, forming a crude barricade. Shane sat at the foot of the stairs, a rifle resting across his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the door. His muscles were tensed, mind sharp, as if he expected someone, or something, to try and break in at any moment.

The others were scattered around the living room, each of them fighting against the exhaustion that was threatening to overtake them. Lori lay on her side, staring down at the others from her place on the couch. Carl and Beth were leaning back against the sofa, a deck of cards between them. The younger Greene girl glanced at her hand and smiled softly. "Go fish." she said. Carl frowned, reaching for a new card. Lori continued to watch the two young people as they entertained themselves.

Herschel had made himself comfortable in a large, worn, high-back chair. Occasionally, he glanced down at his bandaged arm, wincing at the memory of pain. Glenn was helping Maggie to arrange some blankets so that they could form a crude bedroll. The two would stop every so often, smiling at one another. Glenn leaned in close, his hand resting lightly on her back as he whispered something. Maggie laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, as she continued to spread the blanket out.

Carol and Andrea were sitting side by side, each of them chewing granola bars. The blonde woman had a blanket draped around her shoulders to stave off the chill that came with staying in a large, abandoned home. "It's not that bad," said Carol, gesturing to her friend's make-shift cloak.

Andrea sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I'm freezing. Can't you hear that?" She glanced at one of the large windows and watched as water slid down the glass in thick rivulets. "Just listening to the damn rain makes me cold."

Carol chuckled, shaking her head. "It's all in your head; I'm fine."

The blonde woman smirked as she leaned in to Carol's side and whispered. "Well we don't all have something to keep us warm, now do we?"

Carol had to cover her mouth with one hand to keep from spitting bits of granola everywhere. She was shaking with trapped laughter. When she managed to regain her composure, her eyes sought out Daryl. He was sitting with Rick and T-Dog, at the opposite end of the living room. The three men were hunched over a map. Rick was speaking in hushed tones, his hands gesturing every so often. T-Dog and Daryl were attentive, nodding and interjecting when they felt the need. Fingers were jabbed into the center of the wrinkled map; brows furrowed as ideas formed and were quickly dismissed. Daryl must've felt her eyes on him because in the next instant, he'd lifted his chin to meet her gaze. They only held the connection for a moment, each of them knowing that if their gazes lingered too long, they would give themselves away. Daryl gave her the slightest nod before returning his attention to the map.

It had been surprisingly easy to maintain the illusion. Once Carol had rejoined the others, earlier in the afternoon, and Daryl had emerged, relatively calm, from the guest room, things seemed to fall into place. They weren't nervous and they weren't flustered. They'd arrived at the same conclusion, each in their own way. They wanted to be together…to stay together, and everything else was irrelevant. It didn't matter what the others thought, or if anyone looked at them strangely. Granted, neither of them wanted to invite further questioning from the group; Carol and Daryl valued their privacy. What took place between them, in the tent…in the hall…in the guest room, was their business and theirs alone. So they behaved as they normally would. Carol helped to organize supplies, look after Beth and Carl, keep Andrea and Lori company, and offer assistance wherever it might be needed. It was only in the last hour that she stopped to rest. Daryl stuck to what he knew…cleaning rifles, taking stock of the group's weapons and ammunition, helping Rick and Shane to secure the house, and keeping watch through the wide, second-story windows. As they moved through the house, helping…working, their paths would occasionally cross. Shoulders would brush as they moved past one another on the stairwell, or in the hall. Her eyes would find his, from across the room and they would acknowledge each other with the smallest smiles and the most basic of greetings…a nod…a grunt. But It worked. Despite their numerous distractions, Carol and Daryl were able to function and contribute just as they normally would.

While the two thought they were maintaining the perfect illusion of friendship and normalcy, the rest of the group noticed certain changes in both of them. Carol was unusually energetic, light on her feet, hurrying from one room to the next, eagerly searching for any way to help. Despite the angry storm raging outside, and the harsh cracks of thunder that would shake the sky every so often, Carol wore a permanent smile…it seemed to light up her face as she worked, and the others couldn't help but wonder what had made the change in her. The shift in Daryl's demeanor was arguably more noticeable than Carol's. He was still moving somewhat stiffly, doing his best to keep weight off of his swollen ankle, but no one had heard him complain about his injury all afternoon. In fact, no one had heard Daryl complain about anything. He was helpful, patient with the others…even working well with Shane when the two were charged with cleaning the rifles. But the most startling difference in Daryl was his apparent lack of anger. The familiar tension that always seemed to roll off of him in waves, had all but vanished. He wasn't snarling or snapping at anyone. It was as if the aggressive, animalistic part of him had been subdued by some unseen force. The hunter was quiet, opting to listen when his leader spoke to him rather than engage the deputy in pointless shouting matches. Daryl didn't even seem to realize that he was behaving differently. He was so compliant…so calm, that Rick and Shane began to stare at him with creases in their brows. Whenever the hunter left the room, T-Dog would do his best to make excuses and downplay the man's sudden attitude adjustment. In truth, the reasons for the changes were simple. For the first time in his life, Daryl had something to be proud of. There was no longer any need to prove himself by lashing out, or locking antlers with the other alpha males in his group. If he was good enough for Carol, then that was all that mattered. He was also filled with an incredible confidence that came from knowing he'd satisfied his partner….the woman who did so much for others and who had done so much for him. Knowing that he'd brought her pleasure…that he made her happy…it was enough to make every little insecurity fall away. As they went about their various tasks, Daryl and Carol were secretly counting off the seconds until they could be alone again.

Suddenly, Rick cleared his throat in an attempt to get everyone's attention. They all looked at him, so many sets of tired eyes fixed on the man they'd declared as their leader. Lori propped herself up on the couch while Herschel turned in his chair. Carl and Beth set their cards down. Glenn and Maggie stopped arranging blankets, each of them slumping down to sit on the large living room rug. Carol and Andrea leaned forward, hugging their knees.

After several seconds of silence, Rick spoke. "I'm glad we found this place." He paused, his eyes going to the faint glow in the center of the room. Lori had found a candle in one of the bedrooms. She'd set it on a small dish from the kitchen. The ceramic plate was now sitting in the middle of the living room rug, the squat, white candle offering the only light. A phantom breeze whispered through the house, making the flame dance on the wick; the orange glow cast strange shadows and seemed to give each of the survivors a haunted appearance…their faces barely emerging from the surrounding darkness. The deputy continued. "We were lucky to find a place like this….big…empty, plenty of room for us."

The others nodded thoughtfully and tried to forget the fact that the house hadn't been entirely empty.

"I'm grateful to have a roof over our heads…walls. We'll be safe for the night." he said.

The survivors glanced nervously at one another when they heard those chilling words

For the night…

"You don't think we should stay?" Lori asked as she sat up on the couch.

The deputy released a heavy sigh. "It's not that. It's supplies. Yes; we've got food and water…for now, but the car 'n the truck are on empty. We're in the sticks….we need to be able to get somewhere if the time comes. Eventually, we're gonna need more food…medicine, but we can't do anything without gas."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Andrea.

"We make a run," said Rick. He could hear the others shifting anxiously in their seats, murmuring to one another. "We put a team together…'n we go on foot. Walk until we find more cars…a gas station…anything. Anyplace we might be able to siphon some fuel. I'd feel a lot better…a lot safer," he added. "If I knew we had some gas in our tanks. Am I alone in that?"

The others had to admit that they were in a difficult position. Despite the fact that they'd found temporary shelter…they couldn't ignore the reality that they were isolated…stranded. If another herd came through..they'd have no way out. The possibilities were beginning to make Carol uneasy. "This team…" she said. "How many people would you need?" Her blue eyes were trained on the deputy.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd like to have at least four."

"So you've already made your mind up that you're going?" Lori asked, her face pale.

The deputy sighed, hanging his head for a moment. "I think that's best. Shane's agreed to keep an eye on things here. We've been lookin' at the map." he pointed down to the wrinkled paper that was still spread on out on the rug. "Accordin' to this, there's a small body shop nearby…figure it's about ten miles from here. The tanks are both on empty…but maybe we can push 'em…see how far we can get before the truck gives out…then walk the rest of the way."

Carol was trying so hard to keep the fear out of her voice. "So…who were you gonna take?"

Rick looked around the room, eyeing his companions. "Those three spots are up for grabs." He let the words hang in the air.

Glenn took a deep breath before speaking up. "I'm in." Maggie gripped his arm tightly, her eyes pleading with him, but he brought his hand to her cheek and stared at her. "I can do this; I'll be fine. Fast on my feet…remember?"

She let her head drop to his shoulder as he began rubbing her back. "I'm in" he repeated, his eyes on his leader.

"Thank you," said Rick. "I appreciate that."

Another deafening silence settled over the group. "Count me in too," said T-Dog, easing some of the tension in the room.

Rick reached out and clapped his friend on the back in a show of thanks. Before anyone else could speak, Andrea raised a hand, volunteering. "I'll go."

Carol was in shock as she stared at the woman beside her. She placed a shaking hand on Andreas knee, forcing the blonde woman to look at her. "Andrea…why? You don't have to do this…" Carol whispered.

The younger woman gave her friend a soft smile. "I'm fast and I could use more practice with the guns." she lifted her chin, addressing the deputy. "That okay with you?"

Rick answered with a nod, his expression indicating that he was just as surprised as the others by Andrea's offer. "We'll be glad to have you."

While the others spoke in hushed tones, discussing the run. Carol squeezed Andrea's knee again. "You're sure about this? Really?"

The Blonde woman let her hand rest over Carol's. "I can do this. Just because I didn't go storming into the gun shop in a blaze of glory doesn't mean I'm useless." she teased.

Carol let out a choked laugh as her eyes grew warm. The thought of losing Andrea scared her, but as she sat beside the woman who'd become such a close friend, Carol couldn't help the feeling of incredible relief and gratitude that washed over her.

Daryl's not going…

Those three words meant everything and they continued to echo and pound in her skull like a pulse, reassuring her. She supposed that Rick and Daryl had discussed the whole thing beforehand…and if heavy walking was involved, she considered the fact that Daryl's swollen ankle would have removed him from consideration anyway…but the fact that Andrea had volunteered meant that Daryl would definitely be staying behind..with her. Carol made a decision then and there…she would do whatever it took to make sure that Andrea knew just how much that gesture meant to her. She would find a way to thank her. Before the survivors could get caught up in the hushed conversations, Rick stood, demanding their attention again. When everyone was looking at him, the deputy began to speak. "I know you're tired. I know that it's been a long day…a hard day. Seems like every day's been hard since we lost the farm…"

A shadow passed over Beth and Maggie's faces as they remembered their home…the way it looked when the walkers swarmed it…flames pouring from the open barn doors, like obscenities from a screaming mouth. Herschel released a heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment.

"But you're still here," Rick continued, eyeing each of his companions in turn. "You made it. You coulda stopped runnin'…but you didn't. And that's not a small thing. You're still here." The deputy paused, letting the others absorb his words.

The survivors were each processing what their leader had said. Some bowed their heads, remembering those they'd lost…others clasped their hands, heavy sighs passing their lips. Eyes closed and shoulders slumped. Despite the heavy sorrows they each carried…the terrible tragedy and cold heartache that comes with loss…despite the horrific scenes replaying behind their eyes, the survivors had to acknowledge what Rick had said. They were still alive. The realization seemed to fill each of them with a strange sense of awe.

Carol's arms were still circling her raised knees, but she sat up a bit straighter and took in the scene around her. She studied the faces of the people she'd come to know and love. Just months ago, they'd been strangers…just fellow victims searching for shelter…for answers. The only things that had drawn them together were fear and desperation…basic rules of survival.

Safety in numbers…

But as she peered through the darkness of the room, and saw the familiar faces…their features barely illuminated in the weak candlelight…Carol knew that they'd stopped being strangers long ago. They were a family, and she couldn't begin to imagine her life without them. She'd never felt such a sense of worth…of belonging, as she did with them. The only person she'd ever felt close to was Sophia, but now…she was surrounded by an entire group of strong, intelligent, brave, caring, incredible people. They'd welcomed her…shown her basic human kindness that she'd never experienced. They were loyal, determined…devoted to protecting one another, and Carol couldn't believe how fortunate she was. Sitting in the living room of the abandoned house, with her friends, her family and her partner, Carol suddenly felt overwhelmed. Despite the dangers that she new lurked just beyond the front door, she couldn't help but to feel safer than she ever had in her life. She was stuck with them, tangled in the strong web of kinship that bound them all together. Death had run them down, chasing them relentlessly from one lost hope to another…sapping their strength and tearing at whatever flesh it could find. They'd watched, wide-eyed and speechless, as the world they knew was consumed in flames…and they'd fled in the dark, running blind into the blackness of an uncertain future. They'd stumbled, spilling blood and losing faith along the way…but Rick was right. They'd made it. And somehow, despite the strength she knew they each possessed, Carol knew none of them could've done it alone. They needed one another. There was still so much that they didn't know about each other…but it didn't matter. This was Carol's family, and there was nowhere in the world that she would rather be…than there with them. She sucked in a sharp breath and felt her eyes growing warm as she realized how much she truly cared for these people.

Lori had propped herself up on the couch, her pale hand going to rest on her son's shoulder. Mother and child stared at one another, fear and hope reflected in their eyes. Beth had moved closer to her father's chair. She looked so much younger as she leaned against Herschel's leg; the farmer leaned forward, his hand reaching down to brush his daughter's hair. Silent tears were slipping from beneath Maggie's lashes as she hid in the crook of Glenn's neck. The young man chewed his lip, willing himself to remain calm. Memories of Dale were threatening to overtake him. He was whispering to her, doing his best to offer some small comfort as they sat together, huddled close on the rug. T-Dog was silent, his legs crossed. He released a trapped sigh and rubbed the back of his aching neck. Daryl sat beside him, one arm draped lazily over a raised knee. His thumb nail was caught between his teeth but when he lifted his chin and met Carol's gaze, he let his hand fall away. In the safety and secrecy of the darkness, he let himself stare at her. He wasn't ashamed…afraid. He just wanted to see her…to remind himself that she was real.

Carol looked back at him, wondering what she could've possibly done to deserve his kindness…his friendship. As they held the connection, a sad smile crept on to her face. The world they lived in was harsh, unforgiving. Death seemed to wait for them at each turn, concealing itself in shadowed corners and lingering in the backs of their minds. There were no promises…no guarantees. Carol took a deep breath as she accepted the fact that they might not last another month…another week even. They couldn't claim to know what the future held for them. But as she stared into the face of the person she cared for most in the world, Carol knew that whatever time they had left…she would be spending it with him. She would cling, selfishly, desperately, to every second they could steal. She would stay close to him, no matter the cost. Carol wanted to run her fingers through his hair…to hold him tightly…to hold him like he might be ripped away from her at any moment. The breath seemed to catch in her throat and a single tear formed like a jewel at the corner of her eye as her feelings for Daryl continued to grow. Her changing expression began to concern the hunter and his lips parted, as if he were about to speak, but Rick's words seemed to pull the survivors from the collective trance they'd found themselves in.

"I know you're tired…and you're scared…" he said, his green eyes scanning the room. "I know that I've asked a lot of you…'n that I'm still askin'…but I…" he stopped and placed one hand on his chest for emphasis. "I can't do this without you. None of us can do this alone. The reason we're still here..the only reason," he took a hesitant step forward, his head tilting. "Is that we've stayed together. I'm not the one keeping you alive…we're keeping each other alive."

The others stared at him, some nodding in silent affirmation.

The deputy licked his dry lips before continuing. "It's hard goin' out there." He pointed to the front door. "I get that. I know the risks…we all do. But I'll make you a promise…right here, right now…" He stared hard at his companions. "I will do everything…everything… in my power to make sure we get back here in one piece. If you're goin' on the run tomorrow, I will make sure you're with me when I walk back through that door." His voice was firm as he made his promise. When he sensed that the others had accepted his words, Rick's hands went to his hips. "All that bein' said…you should get some rest. You deserve it."

The survivors began to murmur but the deputy stopped them.

"You deserve to feel safe. Me 'n Shane got first watch. T 'n Andrea already volunteered to take second. If we need any help, we'll come find you. But till then, I don't want anyone feelin' like they need to sleep with one eye open. You're safe here. Nothin's gettin' in." There was an edge to Rick's voice as he spoke those last words. "Rest." Having said his peace, the deputy stooped to grab the map from the floor. When he was standing again, he motioned for T-Dog to get up. The two men stood, speaking softly as they squinted through the gloom and tried to make out the markings on the map.

The others were shifting nervously, unable to sit still any longer. Maggie sniffed, wiping at her nose, while she and Glenn resumed their work arranging the bedroll. Beth rose from her spot on the floor and went to retrieve a blanket from the neat pile of linens that had been stacked and folded in one corner of the room. Lori was rubbing her son's shoulder, trying to comfort him. While the others tried to heed their leader's instructions and prepare for sleep, two survivors still sat, frozen, on the rug.

From across the room, Daryl and Carol stared at one another. She reached up and quickly wiped away the tear that had formed at the corner of her eye. The storm of emotions seemed to quiet inside her as she looked at him.

This is it…

They'd spent the afternoon keeping themselves busy…helping however they could. They'd hardly spoken since their brief conversation in the guest room. Despite the numerous tasks they'd been charged with, Daryl and Carol had been patient. But now their work was finally done…if only for the night. Rick had asked them to lay their burdens down and rest. There was nothing keeping them apart anymore…the only things holding them back were their own foolish fears. Carol shuddered slightly as she remembered their kiss…the first one. What happened in the tent…that had all been reckless desire and raw passion. They'd both been too weak to stand against the forces of attraction that drew them together…the physical need and emotional attachment. She'd made the choice for both of them…she'd kissed him. But this was different. Now….they had to decide together. As they continued to stare, she wondered if maybe he was rethinking their sleeping arrangements.

It's too much…too soon.

But before her mind could grow cloudy with doubt, she saw him move. The hunter stood with a grunt, his ankle protesting. Once he was on his feet, he took a moment to rub some of the soreness from his legs. Glancing to his right, he eyed the deputy. "Think I'm gonna turn in. Let me know If ya need a break later on." With that, the hunter moved slowly and stiffly through the living room, making his way towards the hall. He paused for half a heartbeat when he passed Carol, but he didn't let himself linger. As he continued on his path, something stopped him.

"Hey," Rick called.

Daryl looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you changed your mind." said the deputy.

Daryl's brows began to knit together in confusion.

"About stayin' in the house." Rick explained. "It's good to have you in here with the rest of us."

The hunter answered with a simple nod before turning away. Carol listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps as he walked down the hall, towards their room. Swallowing hard, she realized that she needed to act…there could be no more debate…no more cowardly hesitation. He'd stopped for a second when he walked past her…

Was that an invitation?

She couldn't be sure, but something in her gut told Carol that she should follow him. So, bracing herself and pulling a strained breath into her lungs, she rose from her spot on the rug. Fear was seizing her heart and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Hugging herself, Carol swallowed hard and silently wished that she were invisible. She quickly scanned the room and noticed that the others seemed fairly occupied. Trying to be small and non-existent, Carol started to walk towards the hall. She'd only made it several feet when someone called her. She felt her entire body stiffen as she glanced over her shoulder.

Andrea was still seated on the rug, her green eyes fixed on Carol. The blonde woman's head tilted to the side as she stared up at her friend. "You gonna be up for a while?" she asked.

Carol hugged herself tighter. "No…I'm pretty beat. Think I'm gonna call it a night."

Andrea was confused. "You're not camping out here with us?"

Carol felt an uncomfortable warmth spreading across her face as she met her friend's gaze. She answered with a simple shake of her head, not trusting herself to speak.

The exchange between the two women seem to have caught Rick's attention and he made his way towards them, his arms folding across his chest. "Everything okay Carol?" he asked. "We got plenty of room…I mean, I know it's a lot of us packed in here, but I think we got enough space for one more."

She forced a nervous smile and shifted from one foot to the other. "No…that's…it's fine. Thanks. That's sweet but there's a guest room down the hall…" she turned, gesturing in the direction of the room she and Daryl had found. When she was facing Rick again, the deputy's brows were knitting together. He reached up to rub his jaw. The three companions were silent and an unbearably awkward tension quickly filled up the space between them. Carol understood Rick's confusion, but she figured that Andrea would have put the puzzle pieces together by now.

Rick was still rubbing at his jaw, his eyes focused on the dark hallway. "But wasn't Daryl already taking that room?" He asked.

A flush was spreading quickly over Carol's body but she didn't let herself crumble.

I don't have to explain myself…and there's nothing to feel guilty about. I can sleep wherever I choose….

Realizing that her need to be with Daryl outweighed any foolish fears she might have, Carol folded her arms tightly across her chest and straightened her back. Taking a calming breath, she met her leader's gaze and answered him with a simple. "Yeah." She could see that the deputy still didn't understand but she wasn't about to spell it out for him. Instead, she offered a soft smile to both of her friends and turned to leave. "Night." she called to them as she disappeared down the shadowy hall.

Rick and Andrea were left staring at one another. The deputy gestured towards the hallway. "I don't….she alright?" he asked.

Andrea stared up at him and smiled. "Yeah, she's fine."

Rick blinked, bringing one hand up to cup his forehead as possible explanations began to surface in his mind. "Are…are they…?"

Andrea stood up and gave the man a light pat on the shoulder. "I wouldn't overthink it; they're fine." With that, she moved past him and headed to the kitchen.

Rick was left with his thoughts, confusion still plain on his tired face

Daryl sat on the edge of the small bed feeling guilty. His hands clutched anxiously at the sheets.

Shoulda just asked her to come….you just left her out there…too much of a damn pussy to ask her…

Truth be told, the hunter was still lost. He knew that he wanted to be close to her, but he wasn't entirely sure how they were supposed to treat one another when the others were around. They'd managed to act the way they normally would, all afternoon, but bedding down was something different. He didn't think that he had any permanent claim on Carol…and he certainly didn't feel like he had the right to tell her what to do. Part of him wished that he'd had the courage to ask her to join him when he left the living room, but he didn't know if that's what she'd want. So he'd left it up to her.

If she wants to come…she'll come.

He hung his head, blowing out a breath. Suddenly, everything seemed to hurt. The torn place on the inside of his lip was stinging, and his jaw ached where Rick struck him. The soreness in his shoulder nagged at him and there was a dull throb in his ankle. Considering everything his body had been through in the last twenty-four hours, Daryl supposed that he could be in worse shape. For the first time, it occurred to the hunter that his various injuries had all but disappeared during his time with Carol. When they were tangled together, wrapped around one another, sweating and breathing in time to the motion of their bodies…Daryl had forgotten every last one of his aches and pains. All he'd been able to feel was the incredible pleasure of being with her…inside her, connected to her. He gripped the bedspread harder as the scene replayed in his head. The more he remembered, the more he considered going back to the living room to get her. The others would stare and probably question them both, but their possible opinions were becoming less important with each passing second. Growling out of frustration and doubt, he decided he needed to find her. Just as he was about to rise, the bedroom door opened with a creak. The house was bathed in darkness and there was nothing to illuminate the shadowy figure who stood in the doorway, but he knew it was her.

With her heart beating hard, Carol closed the door behind her and released the breath she'd been holding. Her lungs ached from keeping the warm air locked in her chest…but she hadn't been able to breathe as she walked down that hall, leaving her suspicious friends behind in the living room. That short walk had taken every last ounce of courage she'd had. With her hand still curled around the knob, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the door, hoping to calm down.

Daryl listened to the sound of her breathing, but he couldn't quite make out her form through the darkness. Needing one another, the two survivors both started moving. Daryl rose from the bed and Carol pushed herself away from the door. They stopped just short of one another, and stood in the center of the room. The hunter was nervous, he ran a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. "Sorry…for leavin' ya back there…I thought…I shoulda.." but she didn't let him finish

Carol placed a hand on his chest as she stood on her toes and kissed him. In her haste, and with the added obstacle of the surrounding gloom, she fumbled…kissing the corner of his mouth. They both chuckled at the miss, but the laughter died down as they stared hard at one another…two sets of eyes, shining in the dark. With no intentions of missing a second time, Carol moved back in, catching his mouth with hers. He sighed at the contact, his hands going to her waist. As she continued to kiss him, her lips applying the sweet pressure he'd been craving, Daryl let his hands slide lower, to her hips. He massaged her there, loving how soft she was…but he needed more, and he thought she did too. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he couldn't help but to grip her ass. Carol jerked slightly when she felt him grab her, but she had no desire to stop him. Her nails clawed lightly at his shirt and his strong hands were keeping their bodies pressed together. Neither one was sure who'd started it, but suddenly they were moving. Daryl was slowly walking backwards, towards the bed. Carol followed, their mouths never separating.

As they continued to taste one another, Carol realized that she was already addicted to the feeling of his lips against hers…of his tongue in her mouth. The smell of his skin, his hair…the soft growls and grunts that came from deep in his chest, the warmth of his body…she wanted to memorize all of it. Daryl felt the bed hit the backs of his knees; he considered breaking their connection and easing them down, but he didn't want to lose the soft wetness of her mouth on his. Instead, he let himself fall back and brought her down with him. Both of them chuckled and in the next instant she was straddling him, his hands still on her ass. He held her in place while they kissed. She could feel his need building between her legs and it made her body ache all over again. Her core was still so sore from their time in the tent but she couldn't help the fact that her body needed him. She'd been thinking about this all afternoon…she'd been waiting for any chance to be alone with him, to touch him and to be touched….now that they were finally together, on a bed, in the dark….Carol felt that they might be moving too fast. She forced herself to pull away and breathe. Daryl was panting as his hands slid from her ass to her thighs. "What's wrong?" he breathed.

"Nothing." she smiled in the dark. "I just thought you might wanna move. This can't be comfortable for you." she turned to look over her shoulder and saw the way his legs were still hanging off the side of the bed.

He smirked at her. "Fine."

Reluctantly, Carol eased off of him, letting him move. The hunter adjusted so that he could pull back the sheets and slip under them, he let his head fall back against the pillows and then beckoned for Carol to come towards him. She crawled in his direction and then carefully slid under the sheets so that she could lie next to him. Every instinct was telling the hunter to grab her…to pull and tear at her clothes…to push her pants down…but something stopped him. As they lay in the small bed together, Daryl felt that he needed to say something. She was lying on her side, facing him. He was on his back but he turned to face her. "Thought I should ask…" he said. "They give ya any trouble out there?"

Carol was still smiling at him, glad that he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks. "They asked why I wanted to sleep somewhere else…in a room that you'd already claimed…."

Daryl gnawed his lip for a second. "What'd ya say?"

She chuckled, "Nothing. Figured I didn't owe them an explanation. It's like you said. They can think whatever they'd like."

The hunter smirked at her and thought back to all the night's he'd wasted sleeping alone. All the foolish measures he'd taken to distance himself from the rest of the group…when he could've been spending his nights like this…with her. Lying next to someone he could talk to…someone who could make him laugh and who's company he genuinely enjoyed. It was all so new and strange to him…but he didn't want to let it go. Grateful for Carol's company, and for her discretion…the hunter felt that he needed to show her what this meant to him…how much he trusted her. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and sat up so that he could pull the fabric from his body. The shirt mussed his hair as he took it off and tossed it across the room.

Carol was in awe. She knew how difficult it had been for Daryl to let his guard down with her in the privacy of the tent. But now…he was acting on his own. She didn't need to coax him or urge him. Moonlight was filtering weakly through the windows…the glass panes were still covered in heavy rain drops, the shadows dappling Daryl's skin. Wanting to be completely free with the man who had already done so much for her, Carol sat up, facing him. She could see that his head was bowed in shame; he wouldn't look at her.

He's still scared….

She understood that fear…the pain that comes with feeling permanently flawed…a prisoner in your own skin. Smiling sadly at him she lifted her arms, holding them straight up. "Daryl…" she called softly. When he looked at her, he blinked. It took him a moment to understand but without further urging, he inched towards her and gripped the hem of her shirt in his sweaty palms. She giggled nervously and nodded. On her signal, Daryl lifted the shirt, revealing the pale skin he'd been thinking of all day. Carol shivered at the feeling of cool air hitting her body; her arms quickly folded across her chest once the shirt was gone. Daryl's pained expression almost made her laugh. He was silently pleading with her, asking her not to hide. Nervous, excited, she lowered her arms and eased herself back down onto the mattress. Daryl stared at her, his eyes taking in all the lines and curves. He moved so that his upper half was hovering over her. She reached up, lacing her hands in his hair, and pulled him down to her mouth. They both groaned softly at the connection. One of Daryl's hands moved to her breast, gently squeezing the soft flesh. As he focused on the feeling of her warm breast pressing against his palm….he couldn't help but to feel as though it had been days since their time in the tent…he'd missed this. She was arching into his touch, her teeth catching his bottom lip and holding it lightly. The warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips…the soft sounds escaping her each time he squeezed her breast…it was enough to make Daryl feel like any control he had was slipping away from him. As they kissed, he let his hand slide down, past her stomach, to the waistband of her jeans. She felt him starting to fumble with the button and decided to help him. Propping herself up, Carol pushed him back. His lips were parted, to make way for ragged breaths as he watched her. But she didn't speak; she just kept her blue eyes on his as she tugged her zipper down and pushed the jeans past her hips. Daryl reached for her pants, pulling hard and Carol kicked as he finally tore the fabric from the ends of her feet. Once her clothes were gone, she straddled him again. Daryl leaned back against the pillows, fighting to keep still as she reached for his zipper. He watched her, his heart pounding steadily within the confines of his chest. Her eyes darted from his face to his pants. The tip of her tongue was resting between her lips as she worked the jeans down his legs. Even in the dark, she could make out the solid length of his erection and she imagined what it would feel like to loom over him…her body sinking down slow, taking all of him…she could already feel the incredible pleasure of his hardened manhood as she pictured it pushing up into her center. Hungry and eager, she tossed the jeans to the floor moved over him; her core was resting on his erection and she heard him growl at the sensation of her wetness pressing down on his cock. His hands went to her thighs, gripping them hard as he bucked his hips. "Fuck…" Carol breathed. Her core was still throbbing and aching from the way he'd taken her in the tent…she knew the moment he got inside her that there would be fresh pain, but she couldn't stop. Daryl's mouth was open, his eyes closed as he let his head fall back on the pillows. He used his grip on her thighs to urge Carol to move. She rocked her hips lightly, feeling herself slide along the length of his shaft. Daryl bucked underneath her, a bead of moisture forming at the tip of his cock. Carol nearly growled in frustration. All she needed to do was reach between them…grip him and guide him to her entrance, but something was holding her back. Her body was screaming for contact…she wanted him to violate her…to take her the way an animal takes its mate…no thought, no hesitation, just need. But they weren't animals…and this was more than need. Carol bent low, until her forehead was resting against his. She could still feel his hips jerking slightly beneath her. "Daryl…" she whispered.

He opened his eyes and stared at her.

"I'm scared…" she said…the words so soft that she wasn't sure he'd heard her.

But a look of concern suddenly crossed his face. Somehow, he managed to ignore the incredible warm, wetness of her core. With a grunt, he forced himself to stop bucking. He could hear the notes of genuine fear in her voice and he set his physical needs aside for the moment. Running his rough hands along her thin arms, Daryl whispered to her. "What're you afraid of?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her breathing. "Losing you…." she admitted.

Daryl stopped the motion of his hands. He was having trouble processing what she'd said. "I don't…"

"We don't know what's coming, Daryl…" she sighed, interrupting him. "I don't even know how we made it off that farm…and now we're stuck here…no gas. If another herd comes…"

"Hey," he said, giving her arm a squeeze. "I'll tell ya why we made it off that farm."

She eased back enough to look into his face.

"We fought like hell," he said. "It wasn't luck and it wasn't on account of anyone prayin'…that was us, fightin'…runnin' when we couldn't fight no more."

Carol managed a weak nod and released a shaky breath.

"That's what we're gonna keep doin'….long as we can. Ain't no dumb, dead bastard gonna take me out…you neither." He stared hard at her.

"You don't know that…" she whispered.

Grunting, Daryl shifted so that he was sitting up with Carol in his lap. She gripped his shoulders while his hands went to her small waist. "The hell I don't," he growled as he moved in and nipped her neck.

"Death's never gonna stop finding us," she said.

Daryl bit harder into her neck, making her gasp. "Can't think like that," he muttered against her skin.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their bodies closer. "I just…I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you…I…"

Daryl cut her off. He pulled back and met her gaze. "Ain't nothin' gonna happen…'n even if it did…you'd be fine."

Carol's lips parted as she stared at him. "How can you say that?" she breathed. "After…after everything…"

His hands were moving slowly up and down…from her waist to her hips. "Cause you ain't that same woman that Ed used to smack around at the quarry. You ain't that woman cryin' in the dirt no more. You're strong, 'n you're smart. Ya ain't helpless. If somethin' happened to me…you'd keep on. Ya ain't gonna be like Patricia…optin' out. That ain't you."

His blue eyes were burning into her with an intensity she couldn't describe. But she felt that he had the power to see through flesh and bone…it was as if he could see into her mind…her heart, and there was nothing she could hide from him. "You really believe all that?" she asked.

Daryl tightened his grip on her waist. "I don't say shit I don't mean."

Carol felt her chest tighten and she had to close her eyes as a tear slipped from beneath her lashes. Daryl watched it roll slowly down her cheek like a drop of rain on the window pane. Without over thinking the action, he leaned in, nuzzling her with his scruff. She couldn't help the small smile that came to her lips. "We don't know how long we'll be able to stay here…" she whispered, meaning the house. "The supplies are gonna run out eventually…we need gas…and we don't know how long we'll last on the road." She held her breath before voicing the thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind. "We might not be alive a week from now…" Another tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

The hunter studied the face of the woman who'd come to mean so much to him. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure he knew how. She was right. Their situation was serious, and death was never far away. But those things didn't concern him. What mattered to Daryl was the fact that he finally felt close to someone. His life had been filled with so much senseless hurt. He'd spent his childhood cowering, hiding from a father that had never shown him any kindness. As an adult, he'd lead an isolated, miserable existence…trailing after his brother like a stray dog wanting a home. He'd never done anything of value…he'd never cared to. His hellish world had transformed, suddenly…violently…resulting in an even uglier reality….a terrifying nightmare where the ground was always stained red and the tortured screams of the dying never stopped ringing in his ears. He'd found a temporary home with the group, and he was grateful, but then he'd lost Merle…and a dark world grew darker. He'd been consumed with rage and bitterness and all he wanted was to hurt something…or someone, to unleash everything that was rioting inside him. He wasn't sure how, but somewhere between the quarry and the bed he was lying in, Carol had changed him. She'd drawn the anger out of him, replacing it with a sense of worth that he'd never known before. Through her words and her actions…stolen glances and small gestures, she made him believe that she cared…she made him feel like he belonged. Dipping his head to kiss the crook of her neck, Daryl growled softly against her skin. "You're right…no way to tell how long we'll last."

When she felt those rasping words hit her skin, Carol trembled, but he was still rubbing her hips, soothing her. His hands were so warm…

He gave her neck another kiss before pulling back to look her in the eye. She moved so that her forehead was resting against his; her fingers were playing with the ends of his hair. "But so long as we're here…" he took a second to put his feelings into words. "So long as we're alive…'n safe…I want ya close to me."

Carol's eyes were shining with fresh tears but she did her best to keep them from falling. Everything seemed to be churning inside her…the painful throb of hope wracked her body, seizing her heart. She couldn't speak. There were no words…all she could do was tug at the ends of his hair and hope he didn't disappear.

"World's ugly…" he whispered, pulling her scent into his lungs. "That ain't nothin' new for us. We been runnin' a long time." The admission was a difficult one and Daryl had to close his eyes as a crease formed in his brow. He was still leaning into her, wanting to stay close. "Ya didn't deserve that…the way he treated ya."

Carol sniffed as she let one hand slip down his back. She carefully traced one of his larger scars with her fingertips. "You didn't deserve it either…" she breathed.

The hunter nuzzled her again, his nose brushing against her forehead. "That part's over." he whispered, his eyes still closed. "Ain't no one on this earth gonna lay another damn hand on ya."

Carol took a shaky breath and fought harder against the tears that were threatening to spill. She'd never been more sure of her feelings for Daryl than she was in that moment. She loved him. So much that her heart seemed to ache…as if her chest couldn't contain the emotions coursing through her. She tugged sharply, desperately at his hair as she kissed his cheek. The familiar feeling of his scruff made her smile and she felt a warm drop of moisture roll down her face. Smiling through her sadness, she continued to place small kisses to his cheek and along his jaw.

Daryl sighed with contentment. This was what he wanted…what he'd always wanted. Kindness…affection. He'd been starved for it all his life, and as he grew closer to Carol, he realized that he was too afraid to ask for it. But she'd understood. She stayed, despite all the attempts he'd made to scare her away. She'd stood her ground…and she'd run through the rain, kissing him…. She'd shared her body with him and he would spend the rest of his time on this earth repaying that kindness. Realizing that they needed one another, Carol and Daryl locked eyes before letting their lips collide. They kissed, soft and slow. He could taste the salt of her warm tears. His hands roamed up and down her sides, traveling along her ribcage, squeezing when they dropped back down to her hips. When they broke apart, they were breathing hard. Carol reached up to wipe at her face. When she'd finished, Daryl gently grabbed her wrist and pulled it to his mouth, kissing and lightly nipping her skin. Carol's heart was thrumming with alarming speed. "I…." she couldn't bring herself to speak the words that were locked behind her lips.

But Daryl seemed to understand. He let his fingers thread with hers and then stared at their joined hands. He'd saved her so many times and all she wanted was for him to know how much he meant to her. Her free hand was still playing with the ends of his hair and she stared into his eyes. He lifted his chin to meet her gaze.

"I just want to make you feel good…" she said, thinking that the words didn't even come close to describing how she actually felt.

Daryl gripped her hand tighter and bucked his hips just enough to make her gasp. "Don't go worryin' 'bout me." he growled softly. "I'm good." His free hand moved from her hip to her belly, it slid up slowly until he reached her breast. He gave the tender flesh a squeeze, making her moan. The action wasn't forceful or violent…he was careful with her. "Don't care if we got two weeks left…two days…two hours…" The hunter began massaging her breast, his eyes still locked on hers. "I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm gonna be right here…in this bed with you, makin' sure every last goddamn thing you feel is good." He dipped his head and kissed the center of her chest. When he lifted his chin again, he could see the blue of her eyes, glowing in the dark. "I'll do whatever ya want. You wanna lie here, no talkin'…nothin'…that's fine. If you want this…" Daryl bucked his hips again, feeling her wetness pressing down on his need. "Just ask. I'll keep goin' till ya tell me to stop." The words came out as hushed growls that made Carol weak. "You wanna drag me into the shower…wake me up in the middle of the night…Jus say the word 'n I'll get ya off. However ya want."

Carol couldn't believe the things he was saying…she opened her mouth to respond, but then he was talking again.

"Even if ya don't want none of that…'n you'd rather jus talk…read…sort the damn supplies. Just find me. Ya ain't gotta do nothin' alone no more." He placed a kissed to her temple before pulling back.

Carol just stared at him, in awe. "I don't even….I…." she blinked, trying to form a proper sentence. The moonlight cast shadows on his face and his blue eyes were cutting into her. "I just want you." she whispered.

Daryl's lips parted but he didn't have time to speak. With her eyes locked on his, she lifted her hips and reached down between them. The hunter snarled when her felt her fingers wrapping around him. He wanted to swear, to stop her, to brace himself…but he never got the chance. Carol guided him to her entrance and let her body sink down on his. He hissed and she let out a broken, painful cry. As much as she wanted him, Carol's body was still protesting the invasion…just as it had in the tent. But gravity seemed to help her as she sank onto his shaft….her walls had no choice but to open and accommodate him. As she felt every solid inch of him filling her, she wanted to scream. Her body was sore, tender…but beneath the sharp pain, was raw pleasure….strong and real. She'd missed the intensity of this pressure and her walls began to hug him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and she was biting into his shoulder. Daryl's hands were gripping her hips; his mouth was still open in shock and his eyes were wide. He'd been waiting for this moment all afternoon, but now that he was finally inside her, the sensations were overwhelming. The tight, wet, heat of her core was incredible and the fact that she'd taken the initiative to mount him was making the hunter's head swim. When he felt her starting to move, he couldn't take it. He groaned and fell onto his back, his head going back and his eyes closing in ecstasy. When he laid back, it improved their angle, and Carol felt herself take just a bit more of him. They hadn't even started moving yet and she knew that he was pushing up into the very top of her. They were still, each afraid to do anything that might set the other off. They took several moments to adjust to one another. His hands stayed on her hips, keeping her in place. As Carol continued to struggle with the feeling of him between her legs, the delicious pressure of his hardness and the sting of pain that came with it, she bent low over him, panting against his lips.

The hunter opened his eyes and focused on the incredible woman that he was connected to. The warmth of her body wrapped so tightly around his was overwhelming. His calloused hands moved from her hips to her waist, then up, along her ribcage, barely brushing the sides of her breasts. He kissed her hard, feeling her walls squeeze him. "Christ…" he breathed.

Carol lifted her hips slightly before sinking back down. The action alone was enough to drive her closer to the edge, but she held herself back, wanting their union to last. "Daryl…" she whispered.

His blunt nails were clawing at her sides, his hips pushing up into hers. "What?" he panted.

"This…." she swallowed hard, feeling him buck into her. "It's not just sex…at least," she slammed her eyes shut for half a heartbeat as he pushed himself further into her center. "Not for me…" she breathed, her bright eyes shining as she stared at him.

Shallow breaths were passing the hunter's chapped lips as he moved one hand to her face. He cupped her cheek and pushed his fingers back through her mussed hair, stroking it until he was gently gripping her neck. He could feel the sweat of her skin on his fingertips and her scent was all around him. "Me neither," he growled softly before seizing her lips with his own. Lost in the heat they'd created for themselves, Daryl and Carol loved one another. Their bodies were twisting on the thin sheets, and the steady pound of rain was echoing in their ears. Words lost their meaning as the two shaken souls clung to one another, hands and lips exploring every inch of salty skin. Screams were muffled against shoulders and hair was clutched tightly in sweaty palms. Exhausted hearts threw themselves against bruised ribs, like animals trying to escape cages. Toes curled as crippling waves of pleasure wracked their bodies…and skin was broken in moments of passion. Blood was drying quickly beneath fingernails and teeth were sinking into pale flesh. Whatever it was that Daryl and Carol had been afraid to say to one another…they'd expressed with their bodies. Muscles tensed and time seemed to stop as the survivors gave themselves over to every hunger…every selfish want and emotional need. After lifetimes of undeserved pain and brutality, they'd each found someone to care for…someone to love and protect. Neither of them knew how much time they had left on the earth, but whatever hours remained…they would spend them together. Tangled, breathing, twisting…tethered.

The sun was glaring down at them with white-hot light that made their throats dry. Bits of rock and gravel crunched beneath Daryl's boots as he paced back and forth. He hefted the strap of his bow and kicked at the ground.

"Son, I'm sure they're gonna be fine." said Dale. The man was sitting on the steps that lead into the RV. He adjusted his hat and wiped some of the sweat from his brow.

The hunter stopped pacing long enough to glare at Dale. "The hell you know about it old man? I ain't seen your ass out there lately."

Andrea and Amy looked up from the clothesline where they were hanging laundry. The sisters exchanged nervous glances but opted not to get involved. They'd learned early on that the Dixon brothers were best left to their own devices.

The rest of the survivors were gathered down by the blue-green water of the quarry. Some were washing clothes, while those with children were doing their best to give the kids some relief from the heat. Only a few, Dale, Daryl, Andrea and Amy opted to stay in camp, waiting for their companions to return from a run into the city. The younger Dixon had returned from an overnight hunting trip, only to learn that his brother had gone on the run without him. Needless to say, Daryl was bristling with rage and ready to lash out at anyone who ventured too close. He resumed pacing, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

"Daryl," Dale called out again, undaunted by the younger man's harsh demeanor.

"Jus leave me be!" snapped the hunter, waving a hand to dismiss Dale.

"I don't know your brother well, but he doesn't seem like the type to let walkers slow him down…he's with a good group. Glen, Shane…T-Dog. They'll bring him back. No sense in making yourself crazy while you wait." The older man wiped at his brow again.

Daryl's upper lip was curling back in anger. "You sayin' I oughtta just sit on my ass 'n then? That it?" He bit out the words, his eyes narrowing.

But Dale's resolve wasn't easily shaken. He held his hands up, hoping to get his point across. "All I'm saying, is that It's best to stay occupied. Maybe find a project…pacing won't bring them back any quicker."

The hunter's patience was wearing dangerously thin as he stalked right up to the RV. He only stopped when he was standing in front of Dale. "You ain't got a say in how I spend my time." Daryl hissed, his head cocked to the side as he glared down at the older man. "I ain't leavin' till I see my goddamn brother get off that truck."

Dale's thick brows were knitting together as he stared up at the hostile redneck.

Daryl turned his head to spit before he continued. "I'll tell ya somethin' else…if those assholes come back…'n my brother ain't with 'em…we're gonna have problems." His fists were trembling at his sides.

Sensing that the discussion could take a violent turn at any moment, Amy set the wet clothes down and moved in the direction of the RV, but Andrea reached out, grabbing her arm. "Don't…" she whispered.

Amy looked at her older sister with wide eyes. "But Dale…."

"He can handle himself…" said Andrea. "This is between him and Daryl…you don't need to be in the middle of it."

Amy nodded, her expression somber as she eyed the ground. When Andrea released her, the younger girl rubbed the sore spot on her arm. As the sisters stared at one another, a familiar sound reached their ears. They both turned suddenly, and scanned the surrounding terrain.

Daryl's head snapped up, his eyes searching for the source of the sound. Dale scrambled to his feet and quickly brought a pair of binoculars to his face. "Thank god…" he breathed.

"What'd you see?" Daryl asked, the anger in his voice giving way to fear.

The older man sighed in relief. "It's them…it's the truck."

The hunter swallowed hard, clutching at the strap on his shoulder. He gripped the material as if it were a lifeline. The rumbling sound grew louder as the truck neared the campsite, and Daryl was forced to consider the terrifying possibility that Merle might not be amongst the returning survivors. He knew he was being foolish. If anyone could hold their own against a pack of drooling, brainless freaks, it was Merle Dixon. Daryl had never known his brother to turn his back on a fight….the man was ruthless, aggressive…so much so that Daryl often felt weak in comparison.

He'll be back…he will…can't nothin' kill Merle but Merle….

Even as the words echoed in his head, the hunter shifted nervously from one foot to the other. The truck was getting closer, and he could see a cloud of dust in the distance…bits of dirt and gravel suspended in the air behind the speeding vehicle. The two sisters had joined Daryl and Dale in the center of camp, each of them waiting anxiously for their companions to arrive…whole and unharmed. Breaths were held and hearts were pounding as the white box-truck finally slowed to a stop at the edge of camp. The driver's and passenger's side doors swung open, the hinges creaking sharply. Daryl's muscles tensed when he saw a familiar pair of boots hit the ground on the passenger's side.

Merle….

In that moment, the younger Dixon realized just how afraid he'd been of losing his brother. An incredible sense of relief washed over him and he found himself jogging across the campsite, towards the truck. Normally, he'd be concerned about what the others might think of an emotional display…he'd worked tirelessly, from his first day with the group, to convince them all that he was calloused…jaded…immune to the foolish fears that the others were constantly plagued with. But it wasn't true. He was human, and he had one weakness…his brother. It didn't matter that Merle was an addict with a reputation for violence…he was Daryl's only family…the only one who understood him.

As Merle slammed the passenger's side door shut, he saw his brother standing just a few feet away. When their eyes met, their masks seemed to break, if only for a moment. Daryl's hadn't been alone in his concern. The two men closed the gap between them and Merle reached out, pulling his younger brother into a strong hug.

"Miss me boy?" Merle asked as he clapped Daryl hard on the back.

The hunter eased back, shrugging his brother's arm off his shoulder. "Just glad to see your ass made it back in one piece."

Merle chuckled, the sound husky and rasping. "Bet you was just gettin' your panties all in a twist while I was gone."

Daryl rolled his eyes, snorting. "Ain't nobody worryin' 'bout your dumbass."

Shane made his way around the front of the truck and stood with the two brothers. "Ya'll wanna come around back? Got somethin' to show you." He eyed Dale, Amy and Andrea, beckoning them.

Together, the small group began walking towards the back of the truck. Merle leaned into Daryl's side, whispering into his ear. "Picked up some fresh meat on the run…"

Daryl's brows knit together; he didn't understand. He stood with the others, watching as Shane reached for the latch on the back of the truck. The man grunted as he jerked upwards, opening the heavy door. The survivors inched forward, squinting as they peered into the darkness. Moments later, Glen and T-Dog emerged, each with heavy duffel bags slung over their arms. They nodded, smiling and greeting their companions.

"We got some newcomers," said Shane. "Let's make 'em feel welcome. We'll show 'em around soon as we unload these supplies."

The others all exchanged nervous glances as they began to walk back to the center of camp. Daryl moved to follow them, but something caught his eye. The hunters eyes narrowed as he watched three figures emerge from the gloom of the truck. A man, a woman, and a young girl. The woman paused, helping the girl to jump down. A large man, wearing a scowl, pushed his way past Daryl, not even bothering to speak. The hunter felt himself bristling as he watched the stranger stalk towards camp. He hated newcomers, and this asshole was no exception.

Why they gotta bring every sorry prick they find back to this place?

A growl was forming in his chest as he considered following the stranger. Before he could turn to leave, he felt something tugging at him. He glanced down at the thin rope that was tied to his pants. Several squirrel carcasses hung limply from the twine, and the little girl had reached for one. Her small hand tugging at one of the squirrel's tails. His instincts told him to snatch the thing away and tell her to keep her distance, but she seemed so curious. Her fingers brushing the soft grey-brown fur of the bushy tail…. Suddenly, the woman was rushing forward, pulling the girl away…muttering an apology.

She'd pulled the girl into her side, one arm curled protectively around her. "I'm so sorry," she said, addressing Daryl.

The hunter cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the sudden interaction.

"I'm Carol. This is my daughter, Sophia." She stroked the girl's hair, brushing it back from her face.

Daryl studied them both. The woman seemed shy, timid. Her arms and legs were thin, frail…as if a strong wind might snap them. Her hair was startlingly short, and he couldn't help but wonder what the reasoning was. She was staring at him with wide, blue eyes while she nervously gnawed her lip. That was when Daryl noticed the light bruising along her jaw...and the small cut on the corner of her mouth.

"The squirrels…" said the girl, her voice soft. "How'd you get so many? What are they for?"

Daryl blinked, unprepared for the question. "I….

"Was it hard?" she asked, interrupting.

He glanced from the girl to her mother. "Naw," he finally said. "Wasn't hard. Just used traps…that's all. They're for eatin'."

The girl looked horrified. "Ewww…why would anybody eat squirrels?"

Her mother seemed embarrassed. "Sophia…honey…that's not polite." she said as she dropped to a crouch and faced her daughter. "These people were kind enough to take us in…let's try to be a little nicer. Alright?" She rubbed the girl's shoulders.

The hunter was clearly out of his depth, but he couldn't help but find the girl's response funny. "It's fine," he growled softly. "We got some more kids runnin' around…'n they ain't real big on eatin' squirrels neither."

Sophia glanced at him as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's your name?" she asked.

He fidgeted with the strap on his shoulder. "Daryl."

She smiled at him. "That's a funny name."

"Sophia!" Carol hissed, gripping her daughter's shoulder. "What'd I just say?"

The girl bowed her head, sighing. "I'm sorry," she said, looking up at Daryl.

The hunter shrugged, kicking absently at the dirt. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for…just sayin' what ya thought is all."

The girl smiled at him. Her mother stood, thin arms folding across her chest. "Nice to meet you, Daryl. I'm sorry about this one…" she playfully bumped her daughter with her hip. "She'll have to work on her manners if we're gonna be staying here."

"He doesn't mind." said the girl, the smile still on her face.

Carol blushed as she hugged herself tighter.

Desperate to avoid an awkward silence, Daryl gestured behind him to where the others were gathered in the center of camp. "Ya'll had one more?" he asked.

Carol reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. "Yes…my husband, Ed."

Daryl's lips parted. He didn't know why, but he felt a sense of loss when Carol told him that the large, scowling man was her husband. A strange feeling was stirring inside him and he could only think to describe it as disappointment. Not wanting his emotions to register on his face, Daryl cleared his throat again.

Carol was staring at the man in front of her. They'd only just met…she knew nothing about him. His hair was damp with sweat and the sleeves had been ripped from his ragged shirt, revealing skin that was streaked with mud, dirt…and even dried blood in places. He carried a crossbow on his back and she noticed a large buck knife fastened to his belt. His boots were worn, bearing a rust colored tint that came with walking through Georgia mud. His clothes were torn in several places and she guessed that the left knee of his pants had been blown out for some time. Her eyes roamed from the grim string of squirrels at his hip, to the bit of scruff under his chin, then higher, the angles of his face. There was something harsh in his expression, but his eyes were what really caught her attention. Despite his rough exterior, the eyes she found herself staring into weren't mean or hateful. He wasn't glaring at her the way that Ed did. He looked the way she felt…as if he was genuinely surprised by the kindness that she and Sophia had shown him…the startling blue color of his irises made him seem curious…guarded…but definitely curious. She knew that look. It was the look of someone who expected human interaction to result in conflict…not friendly conversation. He could've lashed out at Sophia, when she'd invaded his space and questioned him….or he could've simply ignored them both, but he'd stayed behind…he'd introduced himself….and he didn't seem at all bothered by Sophia's remarks. All these little details seemed to fascinate Carol and she found that she was curious too. She didn't have the slightest idea what the future held…she'd been so grateful when Shane and Glen pulled her family off the street, saving them from a relentless pack of walkers. She knew that things would get better now that she was around other people…Ed would have fewer chances to hurt her, and Sophia would be able to find safety in numbers. It could have been any group that scooped her off the streets of Atlanta…anything would've been better than a life on the run with Ed…but as she stared at the man in front of her, Carol was glad that it had been this group. For the first time in a long time, she found herself looking forward to something. She wanted to learn more about the strange hunter with the blue eyes.

"I'm really glad to be here," she said softly.

Daryl hefted the bow on his back, his fingers curling anxiously around the strap.

"It's just been the three of us…since things fell apart, and Ed…he's not much of a talker." she explained.

The hunter eyed the ground before meeting her gaze. Something about her expression seemed to resonate with him. Her eyes looked just a little brighter than they had a moment ago, and there was a soft smile on her lips. It wasn't often he saw a genuine smile on anyone, and he found that he liked the way it lit up her face. "Well," he said, lowering his gaze and kicking at the ground again. "We're glad to have ya." The second the words left his mouth, Daryl felt mortified.

The hell are ya sayin'…? You don't know this damn woman…her kid neither….

Carol felt a sudden warmth spreading across her face and her smile grew. When Daryl finally mustered the courage to lift his chin, he almost couldn't handle the way she was looking at him.

"Thank you," she said. "That's very kind."

Daryl shrugged, running a hand through his mess of hair. She could see how difficult the simple exchange was for him and it only seemed to make him more appealing….relatable. Wanting to make the whole thing a little easier, Carol decided to break the silence that had fallen over them. "Daryl, was it?"

He glanced at her, nodding.

"Carol," she repeated her previous introduction and held out one pale hand.

Daryl stared at it for a second before hesitantly reaching out making contact. The warmth of her skin made his breath catch. Sophia's eyes darted between the two as their hands touched.

"It's nice to meet you Daryl." said Carol, as she firmly shook his hand.

The hunter was in awe of everything that had just taken place. All he could do was follow her lead and maintain his grip on her small hand. "You too." He growled softly, a hint of color playing on his cheeks and the corner of his mouth hitching up into the makings of a smile.

I can't begin to tell you guys how sorry I am about the wait! I wanted to have this up in August but life has been throwing my family some curve balls lately and unfortunately, writing had to be put on hold for weeks at a time. I really, really appreciate you guys for sticking with me. I know this fic is long and you could've thrown in the towel at any time, but you decided to keep reading, and I thank you for that. Your support means everything : ) Fan fiction has been such an amazing creative outlet for me and I don't want to let it go just yet! Even though we've reached the end of the line with Tethered, I want to keep giving you awesome Caryl. That's why I'd like to start a series of one-shots. I will be taking requests, if you guys have any Caryl ideas, and these will all be short pieces : ) I hope you enjoyed this final chapter, I put my heart into it! Please, please, please, review my brains out! xoxo -Sami