AN: Season 4: post "Alone." Caryl Reunion One Shot.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Body

The body of a man lay sprawled face down in the middle of the train tracks.

A single walker was gnawing on a hand, tugging on the body rhythmically as it ate; making it at first look like the man was trying to escape, as the other hand and both booted feet jerked with each tug.

Moving swiftly Carol plunged her trench knife into the creature's head, a quick stab to its temple dispatching it to fall back and away from the body.

As Carol stood over it, numbed, Judith fussed from behind her where Mika struggled to pacify the baby through her own tears. It had only been yesterday when she'd been forced to kill her own sister after Lizzie had murdered Tyreese in his sleep; when she'd discovered the other girl about to kill Judith so the girls could have Carol all to themselves as their momma.

"Carol?" Mika sniffed, "Is that..." her voice trailed off as she looked down at the body.

They both fixed their gaze on the familiar pair of cloth angel wings sewn onto the dark leather vest, the red rag in the back pocket of the dirty baggy jeans the dead man wore.

A single bolt with green and white fletched feathers protruded partially from underneath the body. There was no sign of the weapon that was its mate, a heavy black crossbow.

Carol knew she had to turn the body over. It was the only way to be sure. She wondered if this was how he had felt when he stood in front of the door to the Solitary cell in the Tombs after she'd disappeared; how he had felt when he came upon Merle at the mill...

She knelt, about to touch the shoulder when the body reanimated, growling, grabbing at her and she used her knife again, this time through the ear and she felt the sharp cracking skull and slush of hitting brain and the thing fell back, her knife imbedded in its head.

It was too much. It was all too fucking much. She lowered her head to the angel's wings and wept in great gasping sobs, wishing she'd died as Rick had expected her to, that she hadn't had to live long enough to do what she had just been forced to do.

"Carol?" Mika asked, coming up behind her, putting her hand softly on the shoulder of the only person she had left who she could count on. "Somebody's coming." she said quietly. Carol wiped her hands over her face, smearing her tears through the grime and snot, using her shirt sleeve then under her nose, struggling for control, for calm, for some way to deal with whatever was coming next.

She heard it then, the sound of someone moving through the trees on the right side of the grade down to the track. Not awkward and halting, not like a walker, but measured and careful. She looked around for a place to hide, hoping Judith would stay silent, and spotted the burned out husk of a car about fifteen feet further down the tracks. She struggled to pull her knife from the body, but it was well and stuck so she abandoned it, hoping she could retrieve it later. Grabbing up Judith she motioned for Mika to follow her to the car and they ducked behind it.

The man who emerged from the tree line was hard to distinguish from a walker. His clothes, a brown plaid flannel shirt and black pants were torn and bloody, as was his face and his shaven head. He was also barefoot and limping, but moving stealthily, quietly. He crept down the hill and limped to the body, falling to his knees beside it.

"Son of a bitch!" the man croaked, first removing the red rag and then rolling the body over and stripping off the leather vest. "Tole you that was mine, mother fucker." He said with hoarse voiced satisfaction when he donned it over his ruined shirt. Next he removed the boots and socks and sat, painfully, next to the body to put them on.

Carol fingered her small pistol and Tyreese's long hammer, her only remaining weapons, hoping he'd just leave now so she wouldn't have to use them.

The bloodied man spotted the trench knife imbedded in the skull of the body he'd just looted and paused, studying it. He threaded his fingers through the brass knuckle holes in the handle and yanked hard, pulling it loose and holding it up to examine it closely.

"Thas Carol's knife..." he muttered and then he looked around wildly, struggling to his feet and yelling her name as loudly as his damaged throat would let him.

Carol held her hand to her mouth, afraid to believe, but then she slowly stood up and stepped out from behind the wreckage of the car. Mika hid, still crouched behind the car, holding Judith.

"Daryl?" she said raggedly, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve as her field of vision became so blurred by tears she couldn't see.

"Carol." Daryl Dixon said with equal parts disbelief and joy, slowly limping towards her on his mangled leg, broken when the rotten branch of the tree they'd strung him up on like some redneck piñata had snapped and he'd fallen. The rope had damaged his voice box after they'd left him for dead, hanging there, slowly suffocating, but they'd used the wrong kind of knot and he'd been holding his breath, playing possum. He freed his hands as soon as they were out of sight and gripped the rope above him, intending to pull himself up, but the movement caused the branch to give way and he fell.

Almost defenseless, slow, he'd covered himself in walker gut camo and tracked the six assholes that'd robbed and tried to kill him. He'd only been with them two days...after he'd lost Beth...

On the second day—yesterday—he'd tried to stop them from raping and killing a kid they'd found, but they'd over powered him and held him down and made him watch, shaving his head instead of doing the same to him, making it a choice, saying if he wore his hair long like a woman he'd better expect to get treated like one.

After that he knew it was only a matter of time until they killed him too. He tried to slip away last night, but the leader, Joe had laid a trap for him and this morning they'd strung him up.

Cooley, the one who'd coveted his vest when they'd met, was the body on the tracks, one of Daryl's own bolts in his chest, shot through the heart. He didn't see the bodies of any of the others so he imagined Joe had settled a disagreement with murder. He'd been the one who'd gotten Daryl's bow in the claiming of his goods. The only thing they'd left him was the hunk of jasper in his pocket, meant for a grave.

As he limped towards the weeping woman who seemed to be rooted to the spot, he dug for the green stone and held it out to her as a sort of peace offering, silently asking forgiveness for giving up on her.

"I thought..." Carol said brokenly, looking back to the body on the tracks.

"I know what you thought." Daryl said quietly, his damaged voice harsh with emotion, closing her fingers over the cool jade green rock and holding her hand tightly. "I thought it too." he told her, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.

He could never tell her the rest and it would keep him from ever telling her how he'd felt about her before the prison fell. I thought everyone was gone. I was weak...And I'm so sorry...for everything...for giving up on you...on us. For thinking I could be happy... that I could make a life with Beth...a girl who never lost hope, just like you...who looked up to you as a pillar of strength...who made me feel less lost and alone...just like you...

"Did you see anyone else get out?" Carol asked as she tried to let herself believe in the warmth of his embrace, supporting the weight of his battered body with her own, propping him up like always.

"I lost Beth—we were together—'til two' days ago." Daryl said, sounding so heartsick and guilty that Carol leaned back to look at his bloodied face with concern.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl." she told him, "We lost Tyreese and Lizzie yesterday." she said, sharing her own guilt over not taking the girl out sooner, not realizing what she was until too late.

"Is it time to come out now, Carol?" Mika called and Daryl looked startled.

"Yes, honey, I think now's a real good time." Carol smiled.

Mika rounded the corner of the car, looking shyly at the much altered man before her, his poor body covered in wounds and blood. When he saw the girl and the baby she carried Daryl started to silently cry, his tears washing away some of the blood off his face, leaving streaks showing his pale and bruised skin beneath.

"Gee you look terrible, Daryl." Mika said, wrinkling her nose, "And you smell even worse."

"Thanks half-pint. You and little ass kicker look like a million bucks." Daryl whispered, a huge smile breaking across his face.

"I should splint that leg." Carol said, her pragmatic nature allowing her to move beyond the miracle of them finding one another, pushing down all the things she felt for him that threatened to swamp her, the wish that he'd be able to accept them from her one day. She slipped the jasper stone he'd given her into her front pants pocket, liking the comforting weight of it there. It felt like a promise.

"We need to get inside someplace—find some shelter for the night—get as far off these tracks as we can." Daryl said adamantly, coughing from the effort. Carol gave him some water from her back pack to help soothe his damaged throat.

"We were following the signs—along the tracks, to Terminus." Carol told him, frowning.

"Oh no—shit no, Carol—that's where they're from—the ones that did this to me—they're from the Terminus—it means the end." Daryl croaked, horrified.

I haven't really had the heart to work on any of my WIPs here after the events of this last half of S4, but for some reason this one shot just popped into my head and had to be written.

I already posted it on Nine Lives, the Caryl fan-fiction site, but a couple of people asked me to put it up here as well to counter all of the Deth stuff that is flooding the TWD tag. I'm doing my best to stay optimistic (thanks Megan & Erin!).

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, I need the reviews to soothe my sad sad Caryl heart…DD1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.