Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Walking Dead. I am humbly borrowing their characters & some other aspects for my own amusement.

Note: This is set somewhat in the middle of S05:E02 & will be AU (not following the show) there on out.

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><p>He had wanted to start over. He wanted to hold on to the thought that the past day's events could be forgotten, entirely. He could kill infected children, watch friends die awful deaths, and put his own Brother down but cannibals. No, cannibals he couldn't wrap his mind around. And the thought that he was this-close to becoming lunch for an entire group of <em>living<em> and breathing human beings, well, that terrified him. He didn't care what Carol did to protect the group during the flu season, didn't see it as a big deal in the light of nearly being bled out for meat. Even for him, that was sick.

He wasn't trying to hit on Carol or give her any ideas when he told her they could start over. He was trying to rewind, back to when he was a little more innocent to what was happening in the world, when only Walkers ate the flesh of people. He wanted to go back to the prison days where he took each day one at a time, focused on runs, on bringing in food and supplies, and on looking forward to the fleeting glimpses of that sneaky smile beneath vibrant cobalt eyes.

Carol would never start over. She would never forget a single moment of her life. He knew it was stupid once he said it, that they could start over, like some kind of child's storybook. She would never erase a single ounce of pain or erase a single honored face from her memory. Even in deaths that she played no hand in, he knew she let their passing scar her soul. He knew it when he had watched her skin rabbits and squirrels, tears in the corners of her eyes as she let her mind fall into the snare of reminiscing. He knew it on those late nights when he had heard her bed springs creaking as she fought to sleep. Yet, despite the weight of the dead, Carol could take on the burden of the deaths around her and still remain dauntingly focused on survival. It was one of the reasons he kept close to her, drew off of her strength.

Hidden in the depths and long shadows of bald cypress, black oak, and river birch boughs, she came to him, just as she always had in the past. The distant firelight flickered across her weary face and he watched her from the corner of his eyes, wanting some kind of smile to tug at her lips but none came. There were cuts in bruises on her milky skin, thin lines around her eyes, but he still found himself startled by her appearance. In these private moments, he felt as he had when he was just a boy, hunting for the first time on his own. That first time he faced a doe and felt there was still something beautiful in his terrible life.

"You wanna talk 'bout it?" he muttered, chin on the butt of his bow.

She shook her head, shifted the automatic on her shoulder, carefully keeping the barrel away from the forest floor. He resisted scooping her back up, just as he had when she appeared outside the fences of Terminus. She wasn't ready to talk and he wasn't ready to confess. He hadn't been thinking of survival or escape as throats were slit three men away.

Quietly, they sat listening to their friends talking, listened to the insects chattering in the trees, and the crackle of the dying fire. The silence was painful, neither able to joke with the other or even make small efforts to speak. One by one, their friends began to find places to lay their heads and pass out, giving way to exhaustion. Rick paced along the shadows on the other edge of the forest, watching and listening, as Daryl and Carol did on their end. He likely would not sleep, they both knew, as he grasped for an idea of where to lead their group.

When the fire reduced to embers and only faint radiance from a slivered moon skittered over their shoulders, Daryl reached for her hand. Her palm was cool against his as her fingers laced tightly with his. He felt her shudder, not in fear or disgust, but comfort. Neither she nor he spoke and when their watch was up, they merely released each other to find a place to sleep on opposite sides of an ancient oak. He watched her curl up under a blanket she had kept in her backpack with his throat tight, wanting to speak with her. He longed to tell her they'd all be okay but he wasn't about to start lying to her now. He sighed, rolled over on to his back, and willed himself to catch some sleep.

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><p>TBC...<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: TWD is not mine. Whee!_

_Note: This is no longer following the plot of the show._

_Who else is excited to find out who is in the woods with Daryl on tonight's episode?! I hope it's not Beth..._

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><p>Daryl woke at dawn, just as the sky began to fade from black to a dull, hazy grey. Despite the morning chill, he was soaked from sweat, his body on fire and his head pounding. He sat up slowly, muscles screaming in defiance, and fumbled around in the grass for his canteen. He drank greedily, checking to see if Carol was still nearby but she had already gone, the grass rebounding from the outline her body made.<p>

"Fuck me," he muttered and rubbed at his face, tracing over his swollen black-eye. He was sure he looked a mess; felt the same way he looked without a doubt.

"Here."

He whipped around into a crouching position to the soft voice behind him, hand automatically reaching for the knife he kept hidden in his boots.

"Easy," Carol muttered, as he glared up at her, still fazed from a dreamless sleep. "It's just me." Carol gave him half a smile, ushering for him to take the bowl of mushy oatmeal from her hands. "It's not much but it'll have to hold you over until we can find supplies."

"You eat?" he muttered, eyes on the ground, as he eased back.

She paused before shaking her head. "Tyresse and I have eaten more recently than all of you. We can hold off a little while longer." Daryl tried to push the food back at her but she stopped him, fending the bowl off with her palms. "Eat," her eyes locked on his. "Please, Pookie, you need it more."

Maybe it was the pet name or maybe he knew his attempts to get her to eat were futile but, either way, he gave, spooning the food in giant heaps to his mouth. Shit, he hated oatmeal but he would eat anything Carol could scrounge up without complaint. He weren't no spoiled ass pansy bitch when it came to food.

As he ate, Carol drifted back to the group, picking up empty water bottles as she went, before disappearing beyond the tree line with them. Daryl watched her go, noted the exact space her figure vanished from sight, and kept his attention focused on the sounds around him until he could just barely tune in to the sounds of her footfalls. He figured she had found a stream and if that was true, it would best to leave her on her own.

Carol busied herself with topping off everyone's jug with clear water from the narrow stream she had stumbled across while hunting for berries early that morning. Her mind was spinning, the silence of the morning left too much time to think. Observing the space around her, she determined it was safe enough at the moment and took to scrubbing her face with the cold water. She wanted to douse her clothes but she had left her single remaining outfit balled up in the bottom of her bag back where they had camped for the night.

The sob caught her by surprise. She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to grieve, she had known all along what Lizzie was, knew of the insanity but she had been weak. Fragments of the mousy woman she used to be had remained and had allowed herself to love those girls, nearly as much as her own lost daughter. Her shoulders shook as she bit her lip, dug her nails into her palms, and pushed back the urge to break. She wasn't that woman anymore; she wouldn't be that woman ever again.

Composing herself, she hurried back to the campsite, grateful to find people stirring. She handed back out their bottles, nodded at the appreciative expressions, and busied herself with the task of preparing for the long day ahead. Rick decided for the group that they would all head towards DC with their newest refuges, Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene. They would scrounge and pillage as they had before and keep moving unless they found a place as promising as the prison had been.

"You wanna hand," a gruff voice murmured behind Carol as she fought to close the too small pack she had been left with.

She glanced over her shoulder, glared, and then turned back to her attempts to get the zipper to meet. Silently, he came to stand next to her, crouched, and brushed her fingers away. The zipper closed without an ounce of trouble and she purposely refused to meet his eyes.

"Don't turn sour on me, woman," Daryl threatened, lips practically skimming her cheek. This time, she looked him dead on, eyes flashing.

"Thank you," she hissed, snatching her satchel from him. Before she could storm from him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

"Carol," he pried, much more gentle this time. "didn't mean to snap."

She bit the inside of her cheek, nodded. "I know," she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. "Me either."

"- just been so distant," he murmured, shifting back and forth on his feet. She couldn't help think that for a fleeting second, Daryl actually looked _shy_.

"I know," she repeated. "I just can't get my head straight. I just can't believe we're back to this after what we worked so hard to create. I just can't get what I saw in Terminus out of my head." She looked up and found Daryl's eyes burrowing into her own, demanding her for something more. They were so dark. "What were they going to do to you?" she finally whispered, reaching out to hold his face in her hands. She brushed her thumb beneath his bruised eye as he tried to turn away.

"Can't," he murmured, ready to back away from her. "…I can't," he pleaded with her as she moved her hands away from his face, acutely aware that Carl and Michone were watching them from where they were sitting and sharing a granola bar. Daryl swallowed hard, blinking as he pushed away the images of torsos on meat hooks and legs in a vat.

From across the clearing, Rick whistled once, loud and clear, signaling everyone to grab their things and get ready to move. Everyone did so, inaudibly, eventually breaking into small groups to trek through the surrounding woods. Daryl stayed on Carol's left, the new girl, Tara, came to her right as they made their way through the trees. In front of them, Maggie and Rosita spoke in hushed tones about what could be in DC. Maggie admitted to Rosita that she was praying to meet up with Beth there. Carol felt Daryl tense at the mention of Beth, felt the air simmering around him as he drowned himself in guilt. Her heart ached for him, knowing once more that Daryl blamed himself fully for events out of his control.

Hours passed as the trudged along. Walkers appeared and were dealt with, homes were searched and then abandoned, and cars in the scattered neighborhoods were inspected then rejected. Morale hit an all time low, even with the newest members of their team trying to lighten the mood with casual talk. Their voices were feedback to Daryl's ears and nonexistent to Carol. As night began to pull at the sky, Rick, Daryl, and Abraham scouted out a home in a tight neighborhood, cleared it, and deemed it safe enough to stay in for the night. The house sat on the fringes of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by new homes constructed to match each other. It reminded Carol of the houses Ed had wanted to buy when they first got married, the ones she hated due to their lack of personality.

Carol offered to take first watch as the rest of the group worked out sleeping arrangements and rummaged around for hidden food in the cabinets and basement. She made herself comfortable on the front porch, hidden carefully in the long shadows spreading down the street. She counted to ten then heard light footsteps approach the side of the house, heard him pull himself over the railing, and then felt the bench she sat on shift with his weight.

"Quiet night," Daryl muttered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and chin on his fists as he watched the street in front of them.

Carol nodded, tucking her legs beneath her thin frame. "I don't like it."

He chuckled then his face became serious. "Why are we followin' these government fucks to DC?" he spat, hushed but still exasperated. "No way Genie-man is tellin' the truth about wiping out the Walkers."

"I think he's telling the truth," Carol confessed. Maggie had filled her in on the details regarding their newest members and gave no inclination that they weren't to be trusted.

Daryl shook his head in disgust. "No way in hell." He leaned back against the bench and let his fingers dance on his crossbow in front of his feet.

"Eugene seems like a nice enough man. I don't think he would outwardly lie to all of us. And Abraham may not be the most intelligent individual but I doubt he would risk his own life for this long to protect someone who could be lying. Eugene must've had high-up contacts that sent Abraham to protect him."

Daryl grunted, still completely disagreeing. Eugene bothered him, not only because he was useless, but because he reminded him of the liars and thieves he had spent time with before finding Dale and his group. "Just watch your back around them." With this, Carol turned to him, confused.

"I don't think they're a threat," she whispered, glancing through the window, between the gaps of the curtains to see her group inside, cans lining the counter. Eugene was talking to Glenn and Maggie.

"I do," Daryl stated as he stood. In the dark, he was even more gorgeous than during the day. He was more volatile, more dangerous, but that just made him more desirable. Carol let her eyes skip down his face, chest, arms, before blushing and turning her attention to the road. Now was not the time. "I'll be around back. Yell if you need me," he stated then loped off, feet quieter than owl's wings at night.

"When do I not need you?" she muttered to herself, adjusted the knife she kept at her hip and settled in for her shift.

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><p><em>TBC<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Road weary; it was the only way to explain how Carol was feeling. When she had been alone, there had been more time to explore her surroundings, drift away in a daydream, or just be on fiercely her own. Now, back in the group, someone always needed her help or attention and it wasn't in Carol's nature to ignore them, no matter how much she craved time to herself. Finding suitable vehicles to travel in had taken longer than expected and once they did find running cars and gas, there weren't enough seats to go around. The long hours being cramped in the hot cars together made everyone a little on edge, influencing poor choices and increasing the number of stupid mistakes that happened when they were clearing roads, raiding homes, and searching for fuel.

Late afternoon was everyone's favorite hour. That is when they parked their cars at the first spot they could find that offered shelter for the night. Everyone sprung from the cars as fast as they could, a joint sigh of relief escaping their lips, as they busied themselves with clearing out the house they picked or setting up camp in an elusive outdoor site. The best nights were when they stopped early enough for Daryl and Michonne to hunt, just before dusk, as they could always come up with some form of protein for the group given enough time.

Carol always watched the pair disappear, longing to go with them, but she was not much of a hunter. Instead, she kept to the faint trails through the woods and backyard gardens to search for berries or edible plants. Usually Maggie or Tara joined her but three weeks in to their travels, she began to have a new shadow; Eugene.

"How do you know which ones are safe to eat?"

Carol flinched at the voice, banging the metal bucket she found in their newest shelter against her hip. She glanced over her shoulder knowing she'd find Eugene a step behind her. As usual, he was blatantly staring at her rear. "They won't be shiny and perfectly round," she sighed, kneeling next to a small berry plant off of the trail. "Didn't you study plants?"

Eugene shook his head, knelt by her and began to pick. "No, only the hard sciences. Chemistry, physics, anatomy, biotechnology, you know."

She didn't know. She had gotten pregnant with Sophia and dropped out of college during her sophomore year to work a minimum wage job. Ed would not let her have a baby unless she brought in money of her own.

"I reckon a fine woman such as yourself must be tired after all of the work you do each day," Eugene drawled. "I know you pitch in an awful lot. I'm not much use, not until we reach DC, but I am known to give damn good backrubs."

Carol bit back a smile. "I'm sure you do and thank you, but I'm alright. Sitting in the car bothers me more than the work I do after a day of driving." She was proud that she kept her voice smooth and kind. In no way did she want to insult the possible key to ridding the world of Walkers but she also did not want him to think she was available.

He shrugged coolly but his face fell. "The offer's always open in case ya change your mind." He trailed off then began talking about a video game he used play, rambling on the entire time they picked, blissfully unaware that she was not listening.

"Wow, nice job guys," Glenn called out to them as they stepped from the shadows of the forest towards the faded house the group had cleared out earlier. He came bounding down the back stairs of the porch to greet them, stealing a handful of berries from the overflowing bucket. "Daryl and Michonne are back too," he told them, mouth full. "Got some squirrels and a pair of rabbits. Maggie's already cooking them."

Carol made a beeline for the kitchen, stepping over Judith and Carl who were lying in the hallway, fast asleep. Eugene moved to follow her but was intercepted by a red-faced soldier spewing swears about how he was not to leave his sight, _ever, ever_ again. In the kitchen, surrounded by candlelight, Maggie was working on getting a coal grill hot enough to cook the cleaned animals spread out on a wooden cutting board by her side.

"What can I help with?" Carol asked, placing the bucket on the edge of the counter.

Maggie smiled at her and shook her head. "I got it this time. You go on and get outta here. You've made us meals every single day since you sprung us from Terminus. I can take care of dinner with Tara's help. Besides, I think Daryl is looking for you."

Carol found him in one of the bedrooms on the second floor sitting at a window seat, the very same kind she had longed to have in her boxy, modern home before the Walkers. The diamond patterned glass was missing several panes and she could smell the night air drifting in to the small, dusty room.

"Move over," she said, prodding his legs with her boot. Without looking away from the window, he shuffled over so she could sit by his feet and stretch her own legs the opposite way of his. As she pulled her jacket tighter against her frame, warding off the chill that crept in with the setting sun, he turned towards her, hazel eyes masked by his unkempt hair. He chewed at his thumb without speaking, just watching her settle in and rest the back of her head on the wall behind her. "I always wanted one of these."

"One of what?" he mumbled.

"A built in window seat," she replied with a partial smile, blue eyes focused on the dark sky. "I thought they were so romantic and whimsical." She chuckled, as if a window seat could have made any part of her life with Ed romantic or whimsical.

Daryl grunted, nudged her side with the side of his boot. "Don't let Genie hear that, he'll be waitin' for ya here with roses."

Carol stifled a laugh with one hand as she playfully slapped at Daryl's legs with the other. "Don't you start, too! Rick made me sit squeezed between him and Tyreese all morning in the fuckin' Prius with Judith on my lap."

Daryl smirked. "I know. I watched him put his arm around you from the Jeep."

She groaned. "I was hoping that went unnoticed. You should have rear-ended us and put me out of my misery."

He chuckled. "Could never risk hurtin' ya," he mumbled, eyes flicking back to the window. He sighed and slid further down the wall, bringing his knees closer to his chest. "Carol," he voice was soft, questioning. He paused, waited for her to say something and when she didn't, he continued. "- you think Beth is okay?"

Carol squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of the blossoming girl who had practically raised Judith and had been stolen and left behind by those who loved her. "God, Daryl, I hope so."

He swallowed hard, nodded, letting his hair mask his face. She reached for him then, without planning to, scooting up the bench to reach her arms around him. He pulled her in, closing off the space between their bodies and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Like before, when she had found them after destroying Terminus, she didn't allow herself to think. She just allowed herself to be held and held on to him the same way she needed him to hold on to her.

"This shit… this just feels like losing Sophia all over again," he murmured against her skin. She tensed at hearing her daughter's name spoken aloud. It had been so long since anyone had spoken of her she had begun to wonder if everyone forgot about her.

"Beth's a fighter. For all we know, she may be just fine on her own, wherever she is…" Carol trailed off, swallowing hard against the fear she felt. He nodded, defeated, and slowly released her from his embrace. As she scooted back, he kept his eyes on the floor, nervously chewing again at the tip of his thumb. "Come on, let's see how dinner's comin'."

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><p><em>TBC<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Carol was not surprised when she found out Eugene had been lying about who he was all along. Over the previous few weeks, during the hours she spent trapped traveling in a car with him, she slowly found herself unable to piece his stories together; he left too many holes. Before long, she had come to the same conclusion Daryl had long before; that he was a deceitful, lying bastard.

Carol did not flinch when seconds after Eugene confessed Daryl grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the brick wall of the office building they had holed away in for the night. She did not shift her gaze when she saw Daryl's eyes flash and darken, did not look away when he swung at the man, and she only reached out to stop him when she knew he was taking the punishment too far.

She led Daryl away as Tara knelt down to take care of Eugene. She could feel the group watching her; taste the different emotions they were emitting. She knew Rick was disappointed but could not entirely disapprove of Daryl's actions. She knew Maggie was weeping inside though she kept a tough exterior. She knew Glenn wanted in, wanted to add his own punches. She knew because she felt everything they did but had wanted to see Eugene suffer for his selfish actions.

"I'm al-ight," Daryl muttered as she gestured for him to take a seat by a row of filing cabinets. He flexed his fingers to prove it to her but she merely shook her head. He sat with a sigh, backwards on a wooden chair, tucking the back of it beneath his arms. He stood his crossbow by his left leg, within easy reach but out of her way.

Crouching in front of him, she took his right hand first, cleaned it out with what little diluted antiseptic she had. He didn't flinch as she wiped away his blood, turning his hand in hers to look for any major cuts he could've given himself. Satisfied that the cuts were shallow, she held the cleanest shirt she had against his hand until the cuts stopped bleeding.

"Think we'll go back?" she questioned, meeting his steady gaze. He always watched her when she was near.

"Fuck no," he grumbled, "though we should. I would bet on Merle's grave that there ain't nothing good waiting for us in DC." He kicked at the edge of one of the metal cabinets.

"Hey," she said, resting her hand on his leg. He didn't recoil like he used to, just watched her. "We'll be alright wherever we go as long as we watch each other's back."

His gaze clouded as he sucked in a breath. "Not if it's like Terminus. – won't get lucky twice and you're running low on lives." He shifted under her stare.

"I thought you weren't afraid of nothing," she murmured, half-kidding with the archer. He stared her down and she squared off, waiting for a quick remark or huff of agreement. Instead his shook his head, reached out, and brushed his thumb along her cheek. Carol froze at his touch.

"I'm afraid I'll pussy out," he confessed as his hand slid behind her neck.

"From-…," she began to ask but was cut off when his fingers curled in her short, silver hair and he crushed his mouth against hers. The kiss was quick, chaste, and left no doubt in Carol's mind exactly how he felt for her. He let his hand drop and stood to leave the moment their lips parted, grabbing his bow as he moved, like liquid, towards the door. She felt color rise to her face as her stomach tied in knots. She felt like a teenager again, completely unaware of the world around her. "Don't," she demanded, as he turned to leave.

He stopped but kept his back to her. "If you won't have me, I get it, and there's no hard feelins."

"Daryl, I never…"

He brushed her off, "I ain't as honest as Rick, or as smart of Eugene, and I sure as hell ain't as caring and affectionate as Glenn. Hell, my own parents didn't want me," he muttered, voice breaking at the end. Carol closed the space between them, walked swiftly around to face him. He kept his head down, eyes on the floor. "When they had me and they were knockin' out the other guys, all I could think about was what a waste… I mean, I shoulda been thinking about how to survive, how to escape, but I couldn't."

"Daryl," she hummed, trying to get him to look at her. He only shifted away from her.

"I ain't afraid of dying," he stated, finally meeting her gaze. "I ain't afraid of suffering, of fighting, of walkers, of pain, or of people. But all I could think of, kneeling of that cold floor, watchin' blood run down a drain as they came to slaughter me, that I was such a dumb fuckin' fool that in all this time we've been together - I just let Rick send you away."

"No," she shook her head. "I deserved-."

"Ya didn't deserve that," he spat, voice rising in anger but then falling in defeat. He went silent, the words he wanted to speak clawed at his throat, choked out his mind. "I don't care that the world has gone to shit," he confessed. "I never have 'cause I'm makin' out better in life now than I was before. But I was afraid to take chances before and that fear made itself loud and clear in that hellhole."

Carol reached out and held her cool palms against his face. His skin was on fire but he had always run hot. "You're not there anymore," she said gently. "You'll never be there again."

He swallowed, nodded, swung his bow on his back then nervously placed his hands on her hips. "Woman," his voice was barely above a mouse's whisper. "I don't know how much time I got left but if ya'll have me, you got me."

Carol smiled as she let her hands fall from his face to his shoulders. Blue eyes sparkling she purred, "Only if you bring me squirrels every single day." He stared at her then broke into an awkward grin. "And," she continued, growing more confident by the way he burned watching her, "still kiss me after I destroy the city of DC."

"Hell yes," he grunted, tightening his grip on her hips. His lips met hers again and this time, she didn't let him pull away as quickly. His lips were dry but powerful, sweeping her off her feet like he had when he hugged her, having found her again. "Besides," he murmured into her ear, "what else I got to do?"

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><p><em>FIN<em>


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