The Walking Dead isn't mine.

It was mid-day before he came looking for her. She could tell he was up and about by the sudden silence around her, and then the barely concealed giggles. She glanced up from where she was bent over, weeding their vegetable garden, to see him approaching the field at a slow yet deliberate pace.

"Oooh Carol, here comes your man!" One of the women called, easily heard by Daryl and everyone else still living.

Carol cringed, reddening. The Woodbury folk didn't seem to realize how tightly wound Daryl was. She expected him to turn in the opposite direction, but he surprised her by keeping to his path. He was seeking her out. That was unexpected. She stood, resting her hands on her hips and waited.

"Daryl, honey!" Bridget called. Carol and Daryl both glanced over to see the seventy odd year old hiking up her skirts and presenting a leg for his inspection. "What do you think?" She asked, running her hand along the ghostly white flesh.

Daryl looked back and caught Carol's eye briefly.

"I think you best put it away before you blind us all." Daryl said.

The other women dropped their tools then, sticking their legs out and wiggling their rear ends.

"Over here, Daryl! These legs can outrun a dozen walkers!" One woman called.

"I used to teach yoga, Daryl. I'm flexible." Another woman teased.

"I bet you'd like my legs wrapped around you!" A third said, rocking her hips suggestively.

"OOOOH!" They laughed.

"What do you think, Dixon?"

Daryl was red faced, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

"This ain't no field of dreams, that's for sure."

"He's a lost cause, ladies." Bridget declared.

The women laughed and turned back to their chores.

Having run the gauntlet of females, Daryl had almost forgotten to feel awkward when he finally reached Carol. He seemed grateful when she stepped out of the garden to join him.

"I owe you a water." He said after a moment, handing her a bottle.

"This a peace offering?" She asked lightly, taking a sip.

"Something like that." He said, shuffling on his feet a bit. "You had to be hangin' out with every damn woman in the place." He grumbled.

Carol shrugged and smiled. "They didn't scare you much. I'd say you have a few fans. Looks like you've got a shot with Bridget."

"phffft."

Carol laughed.

"Listen," Daryl began, but paused, uncomfortable with the proximity of the women. "Come on." He gestured to a small clearing just beyond the vegetable garden. It was within sight but out of ear shot. She followed him, along with the whistles, hoots and cheers of the women.

Carol sat down in the long grass and Daryl joined her.

"Sorry 'bout last night." He said, releasing a long breath and meeting her eye briefly with a side long glance.

"I'm surprised you even remember anything." She said.

"Wasn't that drunk." Daryl defended himself quickly.

"Oh really?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Could have fooled me." She smirked.

"Shouldn't a put my hands on ya." Daryl mumbled, chewing on his thumb nail.

"Oh, I've got no real complaint about that, other than having an audience." Carol grinned. "That's the most action I've had in years. You've got great hands."

"Shut up."

"What? You got what you wanted and now you're done with me?" She teased.

"I know I was an ass. Can we drop it?"

"Sure. Dropped." Carol said easily, noting how Daryl had relaxed, leaning back on his hands with his legs out in front of him. He seemed so relieved. "Shame, though,"

"What?"

"Well if you have no objection to my legs, why haven't we been knocking boots all this time?" She tapped his boot with hers as she said this, jolting him fully upright again.

He stared at her, as if trying to decide if she was serious or not. She laughed again.

"Very fuckin' funny."

"You are all talk and no action, Dixon." Carol complained lightly, getting to her feet.

She held her hand out, which he took, and she helped him stand up.

"You done?" Daryl asked, looking ready to make his escape.

"Just about." Carol said, as they turned back toward the garden. As they reached the others, Carol swung her arm and slapped Daryl on the ass, giving his cheek a firm squeeze for good measure. "Your ass looks great in those pants." She said, winking at him.

Daryl turned scarlet, opened his mouth to speak and then just closed it again, ducking his head and stomping back to the prison. The women roared with laughter.

The End