AN: this is a total experiment. If you like it I will continue. This is a reincarnation, soulmate fic. So warning, they will die in each time period, until they don't ;) each time period I will name them Carol and Daryl to lessen any confusion but they may have different last names etc. Warnings for death. No nasty anons please. Please let me know what you think. This is fiction, I researched a little but please forgive any mistakes

I do not own or profit from The Walking Dead.

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Chapter 1

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He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same. - Emily Bronte

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1860

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When the war started Daryl had been in the North. Merle had signed them on with a crew working on the ever expanding railroad. It was tireless, back breaking. Days spent out in the sun, driving spikes into the ground. Anchoring the tracks to the earth, so deep Daryl swore the almighty would not be so bold as to attempt to knock the mighty trains roaring down the track off course.

It was tedious work. That was for certain, but that was nothing new for the Dixon brothers. Dirt poor, they had grown up on the family farm. If you could call it a farm. In the end his father's drinking and mismanagement had squandered any holding the family had. It had come upon the shoulders of Daryl, and Merle, to attempt to hold the farm above water. To stave off starvation, and the brutal temper of their father.

His momma had died of consumption. But all who knew Violet Dixon knew that she had not put up much of a fight against her eternal rest. A small sad pale woman, Daryl had bore her no ill will in wanting to seek out her eternal rest and leaving himself and Merle at the mercy of their father. If nothing else she deserved peace. She would not find it among the living.

He and Merle had set off on their own. Leaving in the night. Heading north east, travelling where the wind and work would take them.

Daryl had no ambition to anything but follow Merle, his loyal lackey to the end. The thought of anything else, was hopeless, that was not his lot in life, to prosper to have peace. He could feel it in his soul. This was all that was meant to be. Never ending days of nothing. Working to survive, but not to build a life.

They'd found odd jobs at ranches and farms throughout the years, never staying in one place very long. More often then not, Merle would wear out his welcome and they would flee. Following prosperity Merle said, and prosperity seemed to flow north.

They ended up somewhere in Ohio, in 1860, the construction on the lines had stopped in preparation for the northern winters and he and Merle had them gotten jobs, at an iron mill, awaiting the coming spring and the freedom to follow the rails. Filling the blast furnaces was work, but Daryl longed for the open air and the camp life of the rails, Merle longed for home.

Merle surprisingly hated life on the road, hated the cold winters of the north. He missed home, wanted to feel the humid heat on his skin. Daryl had no such longing, all his life he'd never quite felt as though he was home. That was until he found her.

He'd headed into town, the small general store was just that, small but well stocked, he was needing some ammunition. When he'd seen her. Carol.

She'd been making her way into town as well. Her parents, had been lost in the yellow fever epidemic two years past, and she'd been struggling ever since, to keep her father's small farm afloat.

Making her way into town to sell her preserves and other goods, and also find the ferrier who'd promised to return to shoe her beloved horse. He had not, her horse had thrown a shoe a mile or so outside of town, and he'd found her, struggling on the icy ground in a ridiculous dress, to remove the partial shoe that remained. Murmuring to her horse in a hushed whisper.

He'd wanted to ride by. Bypass her, head off the road into the forest and she'd never know he was there. Women had never cottoned to his surly demeanour. Merle had always stated that Daryl was the sweet one but he'd never found a woman, that was able to brush past his natural barriers.

He watched her from a distance, struggling with the horse. Then she put her hand up to comfort the animal. He saw her place her head against the horse's neck and how it calmed. A stirring in his gut, carried him forward on his horse. No woman capable of such affection should be left alone like that on the road where anyone might deem to take advantage of that kindness.

As he road up, she turned, smiling in relief. He steadied his horse, and dismounted. She waited in silence. His damn awkward surliness made it hard to even look her in the eye, but when he did, it was as though the heavens opened, and a pure blue, that only must be found in heaven itself, stared up at him, taking his measure he was certain, even more certain that she would be frightened of his roughneck appearance. She smiled then sweetly, and damn if his heart did not pound painfully in his chest. A tiny voice in his head murmured, there it is, what you've been looking for, in a ridiculous red dress, with the most beautiful red curls he'd ever seen.

"Can I be of assistance ma'am?" He said his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Yes, thank you! My sweet Angel has thrown his shoe. Well part of it. I was trying to remove the part still in place, so I could walk him into town. I don't want him to be in pain." She murmured.

He grunted, taking the pliers from her without a word. The wind wiped then and he watched in fascination as her curls blew away from her neck. Never before had a women's neck caught his undivided attention. Shaking his head, he leaned down, taking the foot cautiously, he heard her murmur softly to the horse. "It's ok Angel our own hero is here to help us."

The shoe fragment had come of easily. He examined the hoof and noticed no damage. She would not be riding the horse though, he flushed brightly as he turned.

"Ya'll not be riding him till that shoe is replaced. You can ride with me to town, we can lead her in...unless you had rather not be seen with the likes of me." He grunted, embarrassed.

She chuckled softly " I fear what reputation I had quickly evaporated when I refused to move to town after my parents passed. I couldn't care less anyway what they say. The store manager only cares that the customers clammor for my bread and preserves. They can all be damned. You are a good man." She finished with a flush. Biting her lip.

"You only just met me." He grunted.

She shrugged going over to his horse for help with mounting. "You have a good soul.." she said as he helped her mount, then paused staring down into his eyes. "I can see it in your eyes" She finished on a whisper. Her intense gaze seemed to open every locked door in his heart and mind. Letting in all the feelings he had suppressed all his life.

He tied her horse to his lead and mounted in front of her. A feeling of completeness washed over him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. It was as though his life had just begun.

He'd shyly offered to see her home, to ensure no further problems with the shoe that had been repaired, and she'd agree. He'd missed her arms around him on the ride back. A slow friendship had begun to build. She brushed aside his surly demenor, seeing something inside him he did not know was there. He'd offered, when he saw the state of disrepair of her barn to come the next weekend to do the repairs. She'd smiled cheekily, and brushed the hair from his eyes with a smile.

"Of course," she murmured with a grin "I dare not refuse any much needed help, but just so you know, you don't need an excuse to come calling." And had turned entering her house.

Merle grumbled all winter. About how Daryl was becoming a damn Yankee, how his little mouse was making him soft. In truth he knew Merle worried he would not be leaving come spring. In truth he already knew, he could not leave her.

She filled his thoughts, her eyes haunted his dreams. Seeing her every weekend did not seem did not seem enough. He worried constantly for her, out there alone in her house. Anything could happen to her out there alone. He could spend every moment with her and never grow tired of her. She had a heart like his own. His heart seemed to relish the fact it had found his perfect match. The future stretched out ahead of them. Then the future came to a grinding halt, and the war began.

Merle wanted to go south and join the confederate army. He raged at Daryl when he refused to go with him. Merle was terrified that he would never be welcomed home again if they did not fight. Daryl knew without a doubt he had found his home with Carol. He had no desire to go fight for ideals that he did not believe in simply so they would be welcomed in the south. Merle didn't care and they had parted on bad terms.

She'd held him that day. For as long as he needed as he mourned the brother he felt he would never see again.

They prepared to marry, trying to ignore the hell that surrounded them. They had found heaven.

He was drafted by the union.

They married in haste, and said goodbye. As he marched away, he felt as though his soul was tearing away, as piece by piece fell in his wake. A trail of his heart's own tears, leading away from her.

He resolved to survive, she could not loose anyone else. She needed him, as he needed her. He was good at surviving.

The years past and she wrote as often as she could. Laying her heart open and bare with her words. They longed for one another.

He was terrified when he learned she had become a nurse coming perilously close to the battles. She had the heart of a warrior, unable to sit idle while those she loved suffered. But he'd managed to see her once, he'd been granted furlow and he'd found her three months ago. That night had been filled with a reignited passion. A desperation unlike any other had taken ahold of them. His heart had broken again the next day as he'd had to leave.

The battle of Appomattox loomed ahead, it was thought to be the final battle. Lee was close to surrendering they could feel it. It would be over soon. His aim proved true. He lead fearless charges. But it seemed his luck would not hold fast.

As the hornet like bullet pierced his side, he fell to the ground. He stared up at the sky and was certain, he could see her face.

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It was certain, that each day in the hospital would bring about only one thing. Misery. The air smelled like a putrid mix of blood and bowel. The moans of the wounded filled the air, most missed limbs.

Carol had worked most of the day. Sweat dripped from her brow. As she dashed past amputations in progress only just making the outside of the tent, did she empty her stomach. The third time that day.

"Does your man know you are expecting?"

Carol turned taking the towel offered to her from a fellow nurse Clara, and wiped her face. She shook her head no. He did not. Saint's above her beloved husband for all his tough exterior worried like a matronly aunt. She did not want him preoccupied. She could not loose him.

Clara, sighed and took her hand. "Come, a new batch of wounded, has arrived from the field. You'll sit with those going to meet the maker. At least you will be off your feet."

Carol followed slowly, her spirit so low. It seemed as though the never ending trail of wounded would never end.

She headed towards the back, the area had a separate entrance they brought in the dying. No need for the other men to see them.

She stopped dead in her tracks as a strangled sob escaped her throat. "Daryl?" She whispered softly.

She was running, falling to her knees by the cot that held his body. His pale cold body. "No...nononono.." she grabbed his hand, bringing it to her face, then felt her tears, cascade down her face as his eyes opened and stared up at her. Never before had anyone's gaze on her face ever held so much love, never again would it ever. He watched her for as long as he could, before his eyes closed and his breath come in stuttered gasps. She swore as he took his last breath she heard him whisper "Stay safe"

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She never married again. Never could any man fill his place in her heart. She lived for her son. Until he was old enough to not need her any longer. Then one night she dreamt of him, her beloved husband. Walking though the fields, picking her a bouquet of wild roses. The same roses he had given her on her wedding day. It was time. Reaching out her hand, she followed him, as her last breath left her body.