Well, this is the final chapter in my little Christmas Caryl. I've enjoyed writing it for you. Thanks for reading and have a blessed holiday, wherever you may be.

"Oh come, all ye faithful..."

Carol awoke, laying on the floor, facing Daryl, her head resting on his good shoulder, his hand at the curve of her waist, a quilt drawn over the both of them. The fire was still burning—he must have added more wood to it while she slept—and she lifted her head to look at Daryl's face, smooth and untroubled in sleep. It really was a good face, full of character. She loved the scruffiness of it, the little patch of grey at his chin, the hair he'd let get long and shaggy, refusing to let anyone trim it back, saying he'd had to keep it short for work too many years, making Zack's ears perk up, still intent on trying to figure out what Daryl had been before the turn.

Daryl had removed the bolo tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, probably to get more comfortable in the warmth of the room, and Carol reached up and let the back of her hand brush along the strong column of his neck up to the line of his jaw and cheek bone, and then pushed the fringe of bangs off of his forehead. She turned her hand and with her fingers traced the outline of the diagonal scar that ran across it. Then she ran her index finger down the bridge of his nose to the tip.

"You pettin' me?" he asked lazily, not opening his eyes.

"Any place else you'd like me to pet you?" she asked teasingly, her cheek dimpling at him as he smirked at her and snorted.

"I'm all yours, darlin'—'cept for the broke parts at the moment a' course.'

"Why did you climb that tree, Daryl?" she asked him then, "You could've broken your neck."

"Rick said the same thing." Daryl said.

"So why?" Carol asked again and he opened his eyes to look at her.

"So's I could do this." he told her and used his arm at her side to pull her close for a series of sweet kisses that grew quite passionate by the last.

"I do love mistletoe." Carol agreed with a big sigh, her head spinning a bit from the intensity of his kisses.

"Rick got me dressed tonight." Daryl told her.

"He's a good friend," Carol nodded, still a bit mystified that Daryl had thought there had been something going on between she and the former lawman.

"Yeah, he is—but that ain't what I meant—if you want me undressed...well, yer gonna have to do it yourself...maybe throw some a' that nice pettin' in too..." he wheedled, blinking his eyes at her innocently.

"Daryl!" Carol said in embarrassment. Who was this playful charmer?

"Don't think Hershel will much like it if we take the sling off again—he was pretty pissed we took it off to get this shirt on—pants though—that should be ok." Daryl said reasonably. They'd already removed their shoes and boots when they came in.

Carol was at a loss. Was he really expecting her to remove his pants?

"Or we can just cuddle up and go back to sleep—your call..." he said quietly, noting her confusion. "We got lots more nights after this to be together...if that's what you want..." a note of insecurity crept into his voice at the last and then Carol felt horrible letting him think for even a second she was hesitating because she didn't want him.

"I need to tell you something and I need you to just listen until I'm done so I can get through it, ok?" Carol asked, all in a rush.

"Okay."

"I was 19 when I married Ed Peletier. Until tonight he's the only man I ever had sex with. It was my marital duty—that's what my mother told me—to do whatever he wanted. Most nights it was to just lay there without moving while he fucked me...but sometimes even that...that made him angry. He said I was frigid and hurting me was the only way to get a response out of me. He never did anything to prepare me—never made me feel an ounce of what you did tonight just by kissing me under the damn mistletoe—and so it hurt. It always hurt...but it brought me my beautiful baby girl so it was something I endured. Sometimes it hurt worse...when he was drunk or had a bad day at work or lost at poker...then it would be a beating during instead of after...and he got off on it, Daryl...hurting me..."

"Carol, I—need to-" Daryl began, furious on her behalf, but she shook her head at him, she wasn't finished.

"I want you, Daryl—I do—so much I ache with it...but I don't know if I can." She'd confided a little of this to Lori, long ago and the other woman had assured her that when the right man was there for her, everything would be all right. Carol wanted to believe that.

"I'm so proud of you for survivin' that asshole." Daryl said, smiling fiercely at her. "...and as for bein' frigid—the woman I just spent an hour wearin' myself out on...n' her comin' so many times I lost count—well, she sure as hell ain't!"

Carol blushed, remembering.

"I'm at your mercy—you know that, don't you?" Daryl asked her softly. "Honey, I literally got one arm tied from behind my back, so you're in charge here. You can do or not do whatever you want with me."

Carol sat up and looked down at him, considering his statement while biting her thumbnail in unconscious imitation of his usual nervous tic. He leaned his head on his good arm and looked up at her.

"You ever ride horses?" he asked. Carol blinked at the non-sequitor, but then slowly nodded. She and Sophia had gone trail riding at a friend's farm as often as they could sneak away, usually when Ed was away on business trips. She'd loved the freedom of racing across the hills in the open countryside, far away from the city and her cares.

"So what do ya so when you get bucked off?" Daryl said, looking at her meaningfully. She flashed back on how she'd prevented him from going back out to search for Sophia, so determined to get back on that horse even as hurt as he had been...

"Daryl, it's not the same." she protested.

"It's exactly the same." he told her with a determined glint in his eye.

"I don't know-" she began, but he sat up and took a hold of her hand, placing it on his belt buckle. And then he raised his free left arm and put it behind his head, resting his neck on his bicep, effectively saying he wouldn't try to touch her unless she wanted him to.

"You're in control...I'm yours..." he said, his voice all seductive gravelly encouragement. "Ride me hard and put me away wet."

Carol's eyes went wide at the suggestive play on words. Her other hand slowly rose to his belt and she unbuckled it and slid it from the loops, pulling a little too hard so that it snapped out at the end and he shuddered at the whip crack sound, but still didn't raise his hand.

"Sorry," Carol winced, recalling his scarred flesh, wondering how his father had made those marks, realizing how much trust he was showing her as well.

"It's all good." he told her quietly, and she quickly leaned over him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips before she returned to her task.

She stared at the black jeans pulled tight at the fly. She'd been here before, had let her hand brush against him as she teasingly looked for the keys to this building earlier in the evening, and had felt the rigid outline of him under the heavy denim. Without the belt the loose waist of the jeans dipped lower and she saw the top elastic band of his black briefs. Starting at the side of his waist she ran her fingers under the stretchy band and he flinched, his taut belly sucking in. When she reached his centerline he groaned, so hard now that the tip of his cock was visible just under the low slung elastic, straining up as if begging to be released.

"Can I?" she looked up at him, "May I?" she asked, all fearful shy politeness.

"Might die if'n you don't," he gasped, staring intently at her, sweat breaking out in his brow. That made her smile, feeling powerful.

Very carefully she undid each of the five silver buttons, one at the waist and four for the fly. He shifted his hips up so she could pull the 501s down, dragging them off over his feet. She ran her hands up over his shins and knees, felt the solid muscles of his thighs; the coiled snake tattoo there on the pale skin of his left amusing her. She'd thought he'd be that same copper gold tan of his arms all over, but she realized she'd never seen him wear anything but long pants, even on the hottest days. When she reached his hips, his black briefs all that remained of his clothing on the lower half of his body, she stopped and looked at his face, nervous again. He was grinning.

"Since you're about to finish unwrapping your present, Merry Christmas, darlin'" he drawled and actually winked at her and she chuckled at his silliness, breaking the tension a bit. He raised his hips again and she took a deep breath and slipped his underwear down and off as well.

Daryl watched her brow knit together in concentration, staring in fascination at his erection, which probably should've intimidated him, but it just made him hotter for her. She was so sweet, innocent in her own way despite everything she had been through. He held his breath as he waited for her to touch him, counting backwards from a hundred in his head so he wouldn't lose it, go off before he could be with her, inside her.

"What do you like?" she asked him then, before she touched him, not wanting to do anything wrong. He frowned down at her.

"Just about anything you've a mind to do shorta pullin' a Lorena Bobbit sounds fine to me." he told her jokingly, but his left cheek under his eye twitched in an involuntarily wince at the thought of what an angry wife could do to her cheatin' spouse with a good head a steam and a sharp knife.

"Daryl!" Carol rolled her eyes at him. "I'm serious!"

"Shit, if it ain't fun, it ain't worth doin'." he said, but she still frowned at him, really wanting some instruction. He leaned up off his arm and sat up a little so he could take her right hand in his left.

"What you were doin' before? Pettin' me gentle like? Start with that." he asked, and guided her hand to him, closing her fingers around the shaft and then releasing his grip to return his arm up under his head, taking a shuddering breath. The counting backward shit wasn't going to cut it. He closed his eyes and pictured the big Mossberg shot gun and started breaking it down, each section, as if readying it for cleaning, muttering the names of every frickin' part, in order, under his breath, workin' to keep from popping off in her hands.

Carol knew she had small hands. She'd given up on her piano lessons when she couldn't span an octave. When Ed had made her jerk him off, a 'quick handy' as he called it, she could completely encircle him, her fingers touching. He liked it fast and hard, coming quickly with a grunt and a cuff to her head if he thought she'd been too slow.

Daryl's skin was softer than the luxurious leather of the warden's sofa, covering a cock harder than she'd ever felt, and so thick that her hand could barely enclose it three quarters of the way around. She brought her other hand up and then did what he'd asked, just petted him softly, running her fingers along his inner thighs and then up over and around his sac, which was drawn up tight and close to the base. Following the line of the pointed arrow shaft and head, she continued up and over his hips, amazed at the kid glove texture of his flesh there too. Then she returned her hands to his cock, using both to encompass him and he whimpered and his hips hitched up and back, pumping into her hands and he swore with need.

"Shit—wanna be inside you—please?" he asked, biting his upper lip as he looked at her pleadingly. She looked confused, but then released him and started to lie back, but he sat up and stopped her.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I can't—I'd need both arms to hold myself above you..." Daryl tried to explain his dilemma, it really was a matter of physics, or perhaps logistics, but missionary wasn't really on the table.

"Oh." Carol said, at a loss, and then understanding dawned and she blushed, "You mean..."

"I wasn't kiddin' afore when I told you ride me—ride me...hard." he said a bit tightly, hoping she was up for it.

"Wait." she said and then stood and went swiftly to the couch and grabbed one of the seat cushions up and lifted something underneath it with her other hand. She brought the cushion to him and helped him put it under his back and then sat back down beside him, stealing a glance below his waist and sighing. She held up a small box with a picture of a stylized Greek soldier on the side.

"Glenn stashes those little buggers everywhere, doesn't he?" Daryl said admiringly, glad she'd thought of it. "I ain't got no diseases or nothin'—just so's you know." He told her. Before the Turn he'd given blood at the Red Cross regularly, something he'd never told his brother, knowing Merle would've called him a pussy for giving it away when he could sell it at the medical school.

"Me neither, other than the one we all have." Carol reminded him, "The Red Cross tests your blood when you donate, so I—"

"Me too," Daryl interrupted with a smile, unreasonably happy that they had something in common from before the Turn besides their histories of abuse. Carol smiled back, a bit bemused.

"So yes or no?" she said, rattling the condoms in the box.

"Well, I ain't shootin' blanks..." Daryl said leadingly. Carol's hand went to her abdomen, touching the scars there, a pain filled look haunting her face.

"Oh shit..." Daryl murmured. "I'm an ass-com'ere." he said, raising his arm and reaching out to her. She went to him and he hugged her close, his mouth at her temple. "I'm sorry...didn't put two n' two together...he hurt you..."

Carol didn't speak at first, the memory still raw, though it had been almost eight years ago, until the plague, until the dead rose; it had been the worst time in her life. Daryl waited, listening to her breathing, waiting for it to even out.

"I lost a baby." she finally said. "What they call an ectopic—a tubal pregnancy—Ed wouldn't take me to the doctor, said I was just being weak. It ruptured; I almost died from the infection. I had emergency surgery and they had to take..." she sighed, "...everything." It had infuriated Ed. Not only had she lost what he'd been sure was the son he'd expected Sophia to be, but it had made his wife even more useless, unable to have any more children. She wondered if Daryl would feel the same way.

"Sorry you lost yer baby..." Daryl said, kissing her temple. "But there's enough orphans these days need parents; don't need to be bringing any more sorry ass Dixons into the mix." Daryl said definitively, the matter settled as far as he was concerned.

"Daryl?" Carol couldn't fathom that was all he had to say on something she'd been dreading having to tell him, had never told anyone, not even Lori.

"And bonus—don't need these lil' buzz kills neither!" he said happily, picking up the condom box and tossing it back up onto the couch.

Carol stared at him for a long time, disbelievingly, her eyes filling with tears.

"You just gonna watch me forever?" Daryl asked, giving her a little shake with the arm still wrapped around her. The tears rolled down her cheeks and then she swiftly moved to kiss him, putting all of her love for him, for his ability to go through hell and just get on with it, living, and for expecting nothing less of her, into it. He moved his hand to tangle his fingers in the short hair at her nape, holding her head to him and kissed her back, deepening it and then she moved over him, straddling his waist, bracing her hands on the cushion behind his shoulders.

Carol let her hips slide lower, rubbing herself against him, and he groaned. He'd subsided somewhat as their talk had turned serious, but the hot velvet center of her dragging up and over his cock in a relentless rhythm soon brought him back to full attention. It also felt absolutely amazing to her—and she was getting more turned on by the second—slick and heated.

Daryl chuckled at the concentrated little vertical wrinkle in between her brows as she moved herself on him. She stopped at the sound and frowned down at him.

"What—is it not...what? She asked, her breath coming in short panting gasps.

"Don'stop...I like it." he frowned, grasping her hip, encouraging her to resume her motions.

"I can tell..." she said dryly and then reached down, grasping him firmly, a bit intimidated by how much of him there was to grasp, but taking a deep centering breath to find her calm.

"You sure?" Daryl asked, knowing she was nervous.

"Know what my favorite Christmas carol is?" Carol said as she lowered her hips, pushing back against the tip of him, slickened with her juices, guiding him inside while making an inarticulate little animal noise of pleasure as she fought to relax enough to let him push deeper inside.

"K—k—Carol?" he groaned and she wasn't sure if he was saying her name or wondering at her last question. Carol leaned down and licked around the curve of his ear, and then she sang in a raspy mezzo soprano growl,

"Oh come...all ye faithful..." and he burst out laughing at the same moment she bit down on his ear lobe and pushed her hips back down hard, sheathing him almost half way inside her tightness. His head went back and he yelled and his hips bucked up into her, completely seating himself in her depths.

"Oh fuck." Carol gasped and her mouth and eyes came open in wonder, rising up to look down into his face, moving her hands to rest on his belly.

"What did you just say?" Daryl asked, shocked into another laugh. He'd rarely heard her cuss, and he'd almost never heard her say that particular word. Carol blushed, but then shrugged.

"If I do it, I should learn to say it." she said, trying for flippant.

"Uh uh." Daryl said quietly, suddenly looking serious and shaking his head at her in negation. He reached his hand up to her cheek. "Not what we're doin'." She frowned and tilted her head at him."You know," he told her and drew her down for a gentle kiss, and then he spoke, his hand at her nape, holding her forehead to his as they began to move together. "This...this is makin' love...I love you..."

"Daryl...I love you too..." Carol whispered, overcome with emotion, joyful, triumphant.

Outside, the white blanket of snow continued to fall, filling in all the gaps and hollows in the landscape. Inside, two lonely people had found the same in each other, a new beginning, born in their faith in and love for one another, this second Christmas after the Turn.