"Daryl, could you come over later I need you for something," Carol said, dropping her voice conspiratorially so that Rick wouldn't hear. Daryl furrowed his brow, but she noticed and added, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad..." and she winked at him.

Rick glanced at them and raised an eyebrow, but continued, "As I was saying, we will need to find some more sustainability as far as food goes. I will be going out on runs with Daryl this week to try to scout out more food, clothes, whatever we can get our hands on to bring into the community to bolster the supply. We're doing alright, but I'd like to be doing better."

"When?" Daryl asked Carol.

"Tonight."

When Carol didn't answer the door, Daryl entered her house tentatively, calling her name, but receiving no answer. He cocked his head to listen, and could hear her singing in the kitchen. His mouth curved up into a sideways smile, at the happy sound.

It made Daryl feel good when she needed him for something. He used to take pride in the fact that he was her protector, but she could take care of herself now. He was very proud of her, and it made him worry about her less, but he did tend to feel pretty useless to her nowadays. She rarely asked him for anything, and she had plenty of people who loved her around the town.

He used to provide for Carol, but now she had access to anything she could want in the way of food, and other amenities. The tables had turned and she was taking care of him a hell of a lot more than he was taking care of her. She made sure to keep him fed, and she cleaned and mended his clothes. So, when she asked for anything, he would always come.

Usually it was something Carol needed him to repair, or sometimes something that was too heavy for her to lift. Once she had a mouse trapped under a bowl that she wanted him to dispose of. By 'dispose of' Daryl learned that she wanted him to very gently place it outside, which of course he obliged. It resulted in the mouse getting loose, and they had to hunt the damn thing until well after midnight. Finally, after much cursing, Lester was captured and safely released into he night. In the hours stalking the thing she had named it Lester.

Carol could be playful at times but more often lately her eyes were dark and her demeanor sad, especially this week. They hadn't been spending hardly any time together and when they did she was subdued. It was a heavy silence that he wanted to lift, but he'd always been shit at conversation, so the it grew malignantly between them. For Daryl, it was a huge relief when she winked at him. It brought him back to better days, and gave him hope.

Daryl stepped into the kitchen, startling Carol. She stopped singing, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She smiled at him sweetly, "It's okay. I didn't hear you with the music."

Daryl couldn't help smiling back at her, and he averted his eyes to the CD player which he hadn't noticed playing softly until then. It was playing the song that Carol had been singing. He sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, curious to find out what his task was, but knowing she would tell him. She always took the lead when talking was involved.

Carol didn't say anything else, however, but continued working. She was baking something - it seemed like many somethings. Daryl enjoyed watching her work in the kitchen. He remembered the perfect home-life he dreamed of having when he was a kid – the kind you might see on TV. He didn't like Alexandria, particularly, or the get-ups Carol wore nowadays (and yes, she was even wearing an apron), but there was something about sitting in the kitchen with her that made him feel domesticated, and maybe this is the way life should be. It was comforting.

"Ya making cookies?" he asked hopefully, breaking the silence.

"No," Carol said, "but, I did make some earlier, of course, I saved you some. They're your favorites."

Daryl grunted in appreciation, but he was happier than he let on - more for the fact that she thought of him than for the treat itself. She handed him a plate of three cookies and set out a glass of water with them.

"It would be better if it was milk," she mused. "How long has it been since we've had milk?"

"Long time," Daryl agreed.

"I miss it, you know, I miss so many stupid things," Carol said, frowning.

She was getting sad, and Daryl really wanted to keep the mood light, "Maybe we'll find a cow while we're out, ya never know. I'll look for one."

"Ha," Carol said knowing how scarce animals were, "Daryl Dixon, you get me a cow and you will be my favorite person."

Daryl blushed slightly, but turned his attention to the treat, " 's good."

"Thanks," Carol waived her hand and brushing off the compliment, "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted you here..." She popped down to rummage for something in a cabinet, and popped up again with a bottle, giving an odd grin.

"Rum?" Daryl asked. Finding any alcohol was rare nowadays.

Carol put on her conspiratorial voice again, and whispered, "I'm making rum cake"

"Is it a secret?" Daryl matched her whisper, playing along. He had no idea what was going on or why they were whispering.

Carol laughed. "No, I'm actually making a few of these cakes for the gathering we are doing tomorrow, and guess what! I've managed to procure a bottle of rum."

Daryl rolled his eyes. He would go to this thing for her but he hated town gatherings. She had never asked him to help in the kitchen, not that he minded, "Ya need me to make cakes?"

"Yes, well...and" Carol shrugged, getting out a couple of glasses, "I thought you could help me drink the rum."

Daryl laughed, "You're drunk now, ain't ya? What are you going to put in them cakes?"

"I waited for you, didn't want to drink alone, it's too sad," she poured 2 juice glasses about halfway full and slid one toward him, "and I'll still put rum in the cakes. It doesn't take much. People don't have to know that."

"Thought it was gonna be another Lester," Daryl admitted.

Carol giggled and lifted her glass, "To Lester..."

Daryl was in a tough position where he didn't want to dampen the mood, but thought drinking would probably not be in his best interest, he slid the glass away, "better not..."

"Suit yourself," Carol said wearily but she didn't question him. In her heart she knew why he didn't want to drink. They were cut from the same cloth, both had been abused by drunks. Tonight, she was feeling sad and wanted to drown her sorrows. She drank to the bottom of her glass. "Just so you know, I'm going to drink your share."

Daryl didn't want her to be disappointed with him, "I can still help with them cakes. You won't be alone."

She looked at him with sad eyes, but a pasted on a smile, "I would like that. Truly. I love to bake you know."

Daryl did know, but he also knew she was going through something horrible. He wished he was the type of man who knew the right words to say to make everything good, but he was a man of action not words. He wished he could tell her something that would make her feel better – even for tonight, but it would just be comforting lies, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. Maybe if he hadn't been out there in the harsh reality of it all he could tell her what she needed to hear. He felt she had been slipping further and further from him, and he was mutely watching her slide away.

"What do I do?" he asked opening his palms to her. He was going to try. He wanted to spend time with her, hopefully showing her that he cares. "Don't know much about baking, but I figure I can learn how to do this."

She smiled genuinely then, "Do you want an apron," she teased, "I have an extra one."

Daryl raised his eyebrows and shook his head. No, definitely not, but he chuckled also, and noticed she had started to drink his glass of rum, "Just here to read the directions for you when you've gone cross-eyed" he nodded to her drink.

Carol giggled, "Well, come here, then, you are going to get your hands dirty."

They worked together, Carol showing him little tricks. It wasn't that difficult, but Daryl also realized that it wasn't as easy as he thought, either, because she had little substitutions for all of the ingredients that she didn't have. Daryl nodded, and did as instructed, picking it up quickly. The truth was that he was loving being included in her little world.

Carol was definitely tipsy, possibly drunk. She was giggling, being silly, and she was getting very hands on with their lesson. Daryl was intoxicated by her, his skin buzzed with her closeness, and her little caresses – which seemed to increase the more she drank. She was leaning into him showing him something about leveling off the ingredients as you measured them, but he wasn't listening because he could smell her shampoo, and god she was close, and warm. Daryl continued to work trying to not let her see that his hands were trembling as he measured the ingredients onto the tiny spoons.

"Oh wait!" Carol said grabbing his hand to stop him, "No, I already did that one."

Daryl didn't move his hand only looked at her. Her bright blue eyes met his and she was suddenly very aware of their hands touching, and pulled back from him, grabbing the bottle of rum and pouring herself another glass, which she drank all at once. She started to pour another one.

"Woah, there," Daryl said sliding the glass away from her. "Easy."

"OK, Dad," Carol admonished.

"Psssh," Daryl said, "Someone has to stop you. You are gonna have a hell of a hangover at the damn gathering tomorrow."

"Better get those cakes in the oven," Carol said. setting the timer, but letting Daryl do all of the work. When Daryl closed up the oven she was standing right behind him and he jumped. She leaned into him, "thank you."