A/N - So this is a new WIP. Yes, yes, I know. I'm a terrible human being. But unlike every other WIP I've ever written, I have *shock* *horror* actually planned this one chapter by chapter, rather than planned a rough story arc and then just spewed words on to the page, hoping for the best. Not promising that that'll make updates happen any sooner, but it's a start at least!

And I promise, I'm still working on TCoH, TLitS and Redemption. They're just taking a little longer than I had hoped. And I *will* still finish AYitL. One day.

So, this is a sequel to the two parter I wrote called "Seven Days & Seven Nights." I'd recommend reading that to know where we're at here. If you don't want to, it's set just after the season 6 finale, so contains my prediction for who was killed by Lucille/Negan. And then was an excuse for me to finally push Carol & Daryl together. And so here we are.

I mean, this is TWD. They're not just going to have such an easy happily-ever-after, after all...

The Negan in this fic is very much based on the comic version by the way. I mean, TV version was very similar, but there's just no way you could have him swearing that much on TV. So I'm warning you now for LOTS of gratuitous swearing. And this chapter comes with my standard smutacular warning too.

So yeah. Once again, I'm sorry for putting Caryl through this. Please hit that review button and let me know what you think. Thanks all :)


Over the past week and a half, he'd learned that he always woke up before her. Not that she was a late riser, by any stretch of the imagination. But since he'd been a kid, and had been forced to look after himself, waking with the sunrise had come naturally to him.

He nuzzled a little closer towards her, burying his face in the back of her hair. She smelled so damn…clean. It never failed to amaze him that even without soap, without hot water, or any of them fancy bottles of lotion women used to favour before the end of the world, she could still smell so good.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, and Daryl squeezed her a little tighter, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She stirred very gently, arching her back into his chest, then stilled once again.

He felt a curious mixture of tentative excitement and fearful anxiety at the turn their relationship had taken over the past few days. Everything was so new, so untested and uncertain. And despite the physical intimacy, Daryl was still unwilling to bet that he wasn't going to just fuck everything up by saying or doing the wrong thing.

Truth was he had very, very little experience when it came to relationships. He'd been with his share of women, sure, but on such a deep and personal level? No, this was entirely new to him.

There was a part of him that kept expecting to wake up, half wondering if he was in some kind of prolonged dream brought about by the painkiller that the doctors at Kingdom had kept him on. It felt impossible to believe that anyone could see past his faults, least of all the woman who he held in the highest regard and who had so deeply played on his heart and mind for the past two years.

But in these moments of peace that they shared, it was entirely possible to believe, however fleetingly, that nothing could ever go wrong, and that they could live their lives happily and safely for years to come.

The slightest of smiles crossed his face at the thought, and he dropped his hand to rest just above her hips as his lips gently ghosted over the smooth lines of her neck. She stirred once more, gently rising out of sleep, a contented hum falling from her lips.

"Mornin', beautiful," he murmured into her ear, and in the half-light of dawn he could make out her sleepy, twinkling smile.

"M-morning," she said, fighting a yawn. "Sleep well?"

"Always do when I'm close to ya. You?"

"Hmmm," she said. "Strange dreams."

"You ok?" he asked, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Ya know it aint real."

"I'm ok," she said. "They weren't exactly nightmares as such. Just… strange. And maybe real. Who knows?"

She fell quiet and pulled Daryl's arm tighter around her. He wondered if he should say something, to offer her some form of comfort against the strange and intrusive dreams. But she seemed happy to just be still and silent. He rested his head on the pillow beside her, drinking in her scent and occasionally placing the lightest and sleepiest of kisses to the back of her head, until the grey dawn light turned warmer and brighter.

"Can I ask you a question, Daryl?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"A personal one?"

This was exactly the kind of thing that was expected of people in relationships, and that he was not used to, by any stretch of the imagination. He swallowed heavily and shifted a little on the bed, but he really didn't want her to sense his discomfort. "Sure," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"Who was the last person you slept with, before me?" she asked.

The question knocked him for six. "Why the hell d'ya wanna know? It aint like I'm ever gonna see her again."

"Just curious," she said, and she raised his hand to her lips, softly placing a kiss on the end of each digit.

The gentle feel of her warm, delicate skin against his fingers sent a pulse of electricity through his veins. He didn't particularly want to talk about any of his past experiences. None of them had ever meant anything, after all. But the touch of her lips weakened his resolve. How could he deny her anything at all, even an answer to such a strange question as this? "I dunno," he said. "Some chick I met at a bar, six, maybe seven months before the world turned to shit. Can't remember her name."

"You went six months without…?"

"Six months? I went two and half years without gettin' laid."

"Yes," she said patiently. "But since two of those years have been spent trying not to die, 'gettin' laid' has hardly been a priority. I'm sure for the first six months you could have had anyone you wanted."

"Pfft," he snorted. "I aint never been much of a hit with the ladies. That was Merle."

Carol laughed out loud; a clear, warm-hearted sound that brought the shyest of smiles to his face. "I can't imagine him ever being a hit."

"I aint sayin' he was a perfect gentleman. I'm sayin' that he knew how to get what he wanted, and get the fuck outta there."

Carol laughed once again, and pulled his arm tighter around her, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she did so.

"Do you think she's still alive? The woman in the bar?" she asked after a moment.

"Why d'you care?"

"I don't really," Carol answered. "I just… I think about it sometimes. Not just the people I knew, but also the people I didn't. The people I'd just pass in the street every day. The ones I'd only met once or twice. Everyone had normal lives once upon a time."

"You think what we had was normal?" he added.

She smiled tightly. "Most people had normal lives then. And so did all the people we've encountered. The Governor. The Wolves. Terminus. The Saviors. They were just… ordinary people. And sometimes I wonder…did any people I used to pass by end up that way? Did that girl you met in a bar? Are they dead, are they walkers, or did they become cold-blooded killers? Or are they still trying to hold on to their humanity in any way they can?"

It was a dangerous way of thinking, one that neither of them could afford right now. To be thinking too closely about the pasts of their enemies? That was the kind of thinking that slowed you down, got you killed.

"I aint gonna think about that," he said. "Nothin' about back then, and nothin' about them people matters. It's us, and it's now. That's all that's important. Aint no point thinkin' any other way."

"But—"

"This what you were dreamin' about?"

"It was," she sighed. "I saw so many people from the past. There was a girl who used to work at our local grocery store. Marie, I think her name was. Or Mary… She was there. She was a sweet girl…ditzy, but… sweet. She always said 'hello' to me, always asked after Sophia. And she was there, executing people without a second thought. And there were others there too, people I knew, one of Sophia's teachers, this guy Ed used to drink with at weekends, people in the neighborhood that I'd see every day but never spoke to… they were walkers. And it could all be true."

"Stop that. We're here. We're now," he repeated. "Fuck everythin' else. Just…be with me."

She linked her fingers though his, and he squeezed her hand gently in response. "You're right," she said after a moment's pause. "You're right. Hold me?"

He shifted his weight closer to her, pressing his chest against the curve of her back. With a contented sigh, she moved his hand to cover her breast and encouraged him to massage the soft mound of flesh. He left a trail of kisses down her neck and she sighed as he did so, rolling her hips back against him. A frisson of electricity shot from his abdomen to rapidly swelling cock, and his heart rate increased as she sucked one of his fingers into her mouth. He felt his cock twitch in response to the tight, wet heat, as the image of her sucking on something else raced through his mind. "Fuck," he growled, as the thought filled him. But he would never, ever suggest it to her. She took the lead in most everything they did, and he was more than happy for her to do so. If she were to suggest it, then of course he would not turn her down, but until she did…

She turned to face him, and her eyes were dilated, her face flushed. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispered reverently, before he crushed his lips against hers, moaning softly as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

She pulled away from him long enough for her to whisper into his ear, "I've got to have you."

"Soon," he said huskily, tracing a finger along the taut muscles of her thigh, making her shiver in anticipation. "You know how this works."

She smiled widely as he rolled on top of her and placed one leg between hers, opening her up to him. Her flat, toned stomach was tense with anticipation and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts with each shallow breath she took. "Please," she begged.

How could he refuse such a request? He descended firstly on her naval, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the silky-smooth flesh, then slowly meandered up her ribcage, until he drew one taut, dusky nipple into his mouth.

"Daryl…yes…" she gasped, her fingers raking through his hair as he sucked and licked at the sensitive bud. He grinned against her flesh before trailing a series of delicate kisses towards her other breast. As his tongue darted out over the swollen nipple, her back arched off the bed, and she continued to whisper his name over and over, her incoherent gasps encouraging him on. He wanted her more than anything, desperate to feel the welcoming wet heat of her surrounding him. But he ignored the impulses of his throbbing cock, determined to make her fall apart before concerning himself with his own gratification.

He lathed a path with his tongue, down between the swell of her breasts, over the plane of her stomach, until he reached the top of her thighs. "Is this ok?" he asked her. She nodded once, and Daryl couldn't help the half-smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. She had been so against him going down on her at first. Thankfully her fears and nerves seemed to have been assuaged, and from the delicious moans and encouragement she gave him, he seemed to have a certain talent for it.

He pressed a series of feathery kisses to her inner thighs, causing her to writhe underneath him, then when he finally ran his tongue along her delicate folds, she bucked against him, gripping his shoulders hard. She carefully wrapped her legs around him, resting them against his lower back, as he hummed his satisfaction against her.

Every movement he made against her was matched by her undulating hips, every swirling motion of his tongue caused his name to fall from her lips, each kiss he pressed to her increasingly wet centre made her grip on his hair harder and tighter.

When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she gasped loudly, her hips rocking hard against his face. Her fingers had wound almost painfully into his hair and she pulled hard as her body arched off the bed. She collapsed back and gently pushed him away from her. Her breathing was heavy and labored, and a flush had spread from her cheeks and down across the top of her chest.

He wiped his mouth across the back of his hand then positioned himself above her. "You still want me?" he said in a low voice.

In response, she hooked one of her legs around him and pulled him closer. When she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and positioned him at her entrance he hissed the single word, "Fuck…." under his breath and nearly collapsed on top of her. So far in their relationship, she had been on top every single time. He supposed it was a safety net for her, that she could stop at any time, so for her to want him in control… his pulse quickened at the knowledge that she trusted him that deeply.

She placed her hands on either side of his face as he pushed against her, sheathing himself in her wet heat. His eyes fell closed as she wrapped her arms tightly across his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. Despite him holding most of his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her, she seemed determined for every inch of her skin to be in contact with every inch of his, and she pulled him down on top of her.

He could feel her trembling slightly beneath him, but she smoothed her hands over his back and whispered, "Please, Daryl. Please."

Her hands dipped lower to squeeze his ass, and it kickstarted him into action. He built up a slow and steady rhythm, spurred on by the mewling, writhing woman beneath him. The sight of her, eyes closed, mouth open, hair spiked and messy from sleep, was almost enough to send him over the edge, and he hungrily kissed her mouth, determined to cement that image of her in his mind forever.

When she rocked her hips upward, making his thrusts drive even deeper, neither of them could contain the gasps that fell from them, and when her lips latched onto the sensitive pulse point just behind his ear, he shuddered as everything around him became charged with tingling electricity. It ran over his skin, and caused the world to firstly slow to halt, then rush forward in a pulsing wave. The only real thing in the world was the goddess beneath him, and the kisses she showered over his face and neck.

He fell forwards on top of her, his pulse pounding heavily in his ears, as she stroked languidly up his back. He could feel her heartbeat pounding hard in her chest, syncopating against his own.

"Wanna stay here all day," he murmured into her ear.

"Sounds good to me," she said in response, and she wrapped her arms lazily around his neck. Her eyes were half closed, and a relaxed half-smile was on her face. He pressed his lips to hers, gently probing her tongue with his own, and he marveled at the feeling of contentment that filled him. Never in his life could he recall feeling so…happy, so safe, so loved. It seemed to good to be true.

His intuition was absolutely right. When an enormous bang sounded behind them, Daryl instinctively rolled away from Carol to reach for a weapon. The Saviors had taken all of his weapons, and Kingdom had confiscated Carol's guns on bringing her inside, but she had been allowed to keep her knife, just in case of walkers. Daryl grabbed this and looked up at the door that had burst open, and the safe haven the two of them had built up over the past week and a half came crashing down around him, as a leering man came into their room, pointing a revolver directly at them.

It was Negan. Hatred and rage coursed through Daryl's veins like a poisonous fire, and his grip tightened around the handle of the knife. Every sense of his was immediately on alert, and he shifted his body to keep Carol covered, while she scrabbled with the blankets to try and retain their dignity. Negan grabbed one of the plastic chairs and dragged it into the center of the room, scraping the legs across the floor with a loud screeching sound, and then sat down, his legs stretched in front of him in a relaxed posture. He held the gun loosely in his lap, still pointing in Daryl's direction.

"Now, Daryl, I really hope you aren't going to do anything fucking stupid. I'm just here to talk."

Out in the corridor there were four men carrying assault rifles, and in the midst of them, unarmed and ashen-faced, Rick stood looking more defeated than Daryl had ever known him.

There was no way out of this. Very slowly, he lowered the knife.

"Good boy!" said Negan. "We should throw you a bone!" He began to laugh heartily, and looked back towards his men. "Not that we need to, hey?" He turned back and said in a deadpan voice. "Bone? Get it? Boner? It's a sex joke, so feel free to fucking laugh any time you want. You see, we were just out there listening to you fucking your milf. You see what a good guy I am? Not even interrupting or anything. And I tell you what, I am so fucking hard right now. Tempted to go rub one out. Unless the milf would care to oblige me instead?"

"You stay the fuck away from her," said Daryl in a dangerously low tone. He was shaking with anger, and behind him he could feel Carol seizing up, pressing herself closer into his back, trying to become invisible.

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the milf. What's your name, sweetheart?"

He could feel her ragged breathing and his heart shattered. Violent images raced through his head, the acrid stench of blood in his nostrils. He wanted Negan dead, he wanted Negan to suffer, and he wanted it by his own hands. Carol's demons—those that she was only just beginning to recover from— seemed to have rendered her speechless.

"Pretty fucking sure I just asked you a question, sweetheart," snapped Negan, his voice raising. Behind Daryl, Carol tensed even further. "So we're going to try again. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to fucking answer that question. Because if you don't fucking answer, I'm going to start getting fucking angry. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"C-Carol," she replied in a meek voice.

"Carol? Carol? Fuck off. Carol and Daryl? Well, fuck me sideways if that isn't just about the cutest fucking thing I've ever heard in my whole fucking life! Like you've just stepped out of a nursery rhyme or some shit. Carol and Daryl, sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G."

Negan paused to laugh at his own joke, while the world collapsed in around Daryl. He couldn't think straight. He was frozen from humiliation and fear; not for himself, but for the woman behind him, for their future together. All the air in the room seemed to have vanished, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to fill his own lungs. Daryl's hand made an almost unconscious movement back towards the knife, but Negan raised the pistol.

"Now, why the fuck would you want to do something as stupid as that? Or do you actually want me to blow little Carol's brains out right now? I know break ups are difficult, but fuck, man. That's cold. And anyway, if you want to end it with her, I've got a way fucking better idea. Carol?" asked Negan. "How would you like to come back with me? And I do mean come. Be one of my wives? You'll be safe, you'll be comfortable, you won't want for anything, and you get to fuck the king of the new world on a daily basis."

"No," she choked out, while the fury pounded harder than ever in Daryl's ears. He'd make this son of a bitch pay for his sadistic games if it was the last thing he ever did.

Negan raised his hands in mock defeat. "Well, no harm in asking," he said. "Daryl, you fucking pussy, don't look at me like that, or I'm going to be forced to pull your fucking teeth out one by fucking one. I don't know what kind of fucking monster you think I am, but I'm not going to take a woman against her will. However, that does bring me to the business I'm here to conduct today. Here's the thing. I know that you, personally, are responsible for a fuck load of my best men being dead. Now, I'm a reasonable fucking guy, which is why I only killed one of your people in return. See how fucking nice I am, Daryl? I could have killed every last one of you, and you'd still have taken more of my people. But someone has to replace the men I've lost. And I'm starting with you."

"I aint going nowhere with you."

Negan cocked the hammer on the revolver and once again pointed it at Carol. "Last chance, lover boy."

"I'll go with you, too," Carol said suddenly, and Daryl could feel his heart sinking. "I'm a good fighter. I'll go with you."

"I don't think so, sweetheart," grinned Negan. "We're separating up this fucking beautiful little dream team. No, you're going back to your lovely suburban home, and you're going to fucking stay put like a good little girl. And you're going to help my dear friend Rick make sure you get enough supplies for me. And if you leave that town at all, I'm going to shoot lover boy here in the dick and watch him bleed out. And Daryl? We know exactly where to find your milf, so if you put even so much as a single fucking hair out of line, this bitch is going the same way as your Asian buddy. I really fucking hope I'm clear on this. Basically, you're each other's fucking collateral."

Daryl looked up at the man taunting them. His shit-eating grin was wider than ever on his face, and it could not have been clearer why. Negan had won. Despair filled his heart. This was too much, it wasn't right, it was just too damn cruel. But if he had any hope of keeping Carol safe, and of coming back to her, he had no choice. Very slowly, his eyes dropped to the floor, and he nodded.

"Well, fuck me," he said. "You know, I really thought we were going to have to fucking maim someone to get you to agree. And I really didn't want to have to do that again, so well done. Now, get your fucking clothes on. We're leaving."

"Now?" asked Daryl, panic setting in.

"Right now," said Negan. "You've already given the milf a goodbye fuck, so no time like the fucking present."

He swallowed heavily. He needed a moment, even just a minute alone with her. "You gonna give me some privacy?"

Negan laughed callously. "No fucking way! You'll get dressed, here and now, then we'll walk out of here together safe in the knowledge that you're my little bitch and I have the bigger balls. Now hurry the fuck up. My trigger finger's getting itchy. I haven't ruled out maiming someone if I fucking need to."

"I'll find ya again," he said quietly, turning towards her. "We aint over. We aint."

"I know," she choked back, tears silently streaming down her face. She pressed her palm to his cheek, and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch.

There was something else he needed to say, more than anything. Three words he had never uttered to anyone. And now, more than ever he needed to say them. He parted his lips, but his mouth went dry, and his voice failed him.

"Hurry the fuck up, Daryl. I need to get home and get my dick wet, and the longer I have to wait, the more chance there is of someone around here getting hurt."

The moment between himself and Carol passed. Shame overtook fear as his dominant emotion as he left the relative safety of their bed and the blankets that covered him, and crossed the room to where his clothes were discarded in a heap on the floor. In the hallway, he noticed that Rick at least had the good grace to avert his eyes, but he could feel Negan's penetrating gaze on him, making his breathing shallow and panicked. He pulled his pants on as quickly as possible, but as he reached for his shirt, he heard Negan's intake of breath.

"You know, I've got to ask. Those are some fucking impressive lashes you've got, Daryl. You into the kinky shit?"

His body refused to work. He could feel his muscles seizing up with a mix of anxiety, fear, and humiliation as the suggestion that he had somehow wanted his scars wrapped itself around his heart like an iron vice.

"Stop it," said Carol, in a worried tone.

"So you're the kinky bitch that did that to him, huh?"

"Stop it," she repeated, her voice as cold as ice.

The air was thick with tension, and still Daryl was unable to move. He glanced over to the bed, to where Carol was staring at their captor defiantly and he caught her eye, shaking his head the tiniest amount. She hadn't seen first hand what he was capable of, and if she pushed him too far…

"I'm going to allow you to talk back to me that one time," he said in an emotionless voice. "I get it. This is a difficult time for you. But if you talk back to me again, I'm cutting one of his balls off, and I'm going to watch you eat it. Collateral, don't forget. Daryl, if you're not ready to walk out this door in thirty seconds, I'm cutting one of her tits off, and watching you eat that."

The threat roused him from his stupor, and he hurriedly threw his shirt over his head and pulled his boots on, not bothering to do them up at all.

A hand shoved him roughly forwards through the doorway and out into the hall, and as he walked past Rick, the former cop made the briefest of eye contact, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back towards the room he had shared with Carol for the past week and a half, towards the woman he loved more dearly than anyone he had ever known. She gazed up at him, tears streaking her face, and behind her sadness there was a furious determination. He knew, somehow, that this wasn't the end. He would see her again.