It was a month before they had a proper conversation – or what passed for one between them. When he first arrived at the Kingdom he had been half-dead, and so their eventual reunion had been punctuated by monosyllables.

'Glenn's dead?'

'Yah.'

'And Maggie and the baby?'

No, not them, not yet. Somehow, they were still managing to cling to life in this stinking world. And so was he because that was what he did. He clawed his way back to life with the aid of the hard-pressed medics who dosed him with the minimum of antibiotics and painkillers required to keep him above ground.

It was better that way. The physical pain kept the nightmares at bay – distracted him from the memories of Glenn's skull splintering with a sickening wet crush to the screams of his pregnant wife.

The pain kept him focused. He would not allow himself to sink into comforting stupor – so every waking moment he planned for the day when he would have Negan in his grasp. He would say, Remember Glenn? Remember Denise?

And then he would make him remember.

The air was cold when he ventured outside for the first time since his arrival. The morning was still, like so many he had awoken to in Alexandria, where everyone slumbered beneath a blanket of security – as comforting as it had been illusory.

'Morning.' Carol's voice cut deeper into him than the pain that radiated out from his shoulder. It seemed so long since they had said anything more than daily nothings to each other. So much had happened since then and there was so much to say, but all he wanted at that moment was to hear her voice.

There was something serene in her expression as she raised her face to the sun. 'Funny, isn't it?' she said softly. 'Beauty is still beautiful after all.'

He felt his breath hitch, and goddamn it if he wasn't about to start crying right there and then. What the hell did she mean by that? There was nothing beautiful about this world.

But Carol stood there smiling like nothing he had seen in months, like they hadn't lost everything. When they found each other after Terminus, he'd have done anything to see that smile again, but now it scared him.

For the first time, he felt like he was losing her. It was a stupid thought – after all, there she was in front of him, soft and sleepy from bed, smiling like there was actually something worth smiling about.

'It's peaceful here, don't you think? Like you could stay a while.'

'Don't you do that,' he snarled suddenly, making her jolt with shock. 'Don't you go tryin' to make me soft. That's what happened in Alexandria – I got soft. That's why I went after Dwight – and Glenn went after me like a fool. That's why he's dead.'

Carol laughed. 'Is that what you think?'

Her laugh was like wind chimes – high and musical. It always made him feel like someone else. It made her seem like someone else. Most of the time people went around yammering rehearsed phrases like actors on TV used to. He never found much percentage in words – they always hid more than they said. But those precious few times when he heard her laugh, it was as if an angel had flapped its wings across their broken, ruined world.

Now there was something in her laugh that scared him. He wanted to shake it out of her – find out what the hell she was looking for.

'You left,' he uttered, his voice cracked.

'So did you.'

There was nothing more to be said. They had both tried to do right and had wound up getting people killed. They would both have to live with their mistakes, but Glenn's death had made everything else fade into the background, forcing them to look hard at themselves.

He was sick of it all – sick of the pain, wishing for the warm numbness of morphine in place of the codeine the infirmary staff gave him. He longed to feel something other than grief and despair.

Merle used to make fun of Carol at the camp. Most of the time, he would laugh along, but sometimes he felt a strange kind of indignation that he didn't want to agitate. Once they were arriving back from hunting and Carol was telling Sophia and some of the kids a story. Daryl had never paid much heed to her voice before because it was too frequently muffled by fear, but as she recounted the words of some ancient fairy tale, he was struck by its beauty.

That word again – but there was no other word for it – how it captured and held the attention of the children like birdsong.

Even Merle was not unmoved. 'That, brother, is one classy lady.' It was the nicest thing he'd heard his brother say in years. Thinking back, he wondered if maybe Merle wasn't trying to tell him something.

She stood there, Carol but different. She seemed at peace here – released from the pain that had burdened her for so long. There was a shine about her too, like something purified and tempered by fire.

'You still hurtin'?' He meant the bullet wounds, but the words sounded nakedly intimate to his ears.

'Some.' She smiled again, making his chest ache with longing. The sudden urge to kiss her was overwhelming. He locked eyes with her, unable to move, and he knew that she understood.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips over his knuckles. In that moment, all pretence fell away, leaving him utterly defenceless. He wished he were not so mute, that he could say the words that danced at the tip of his tongue. 'You're beautiful, Carol. Let me touch you. Let me…'

'Come with me,' she murmured, as if reading his struggle. She pulled him inside the shower room and carefully checked each cubicle before locking the door.

He stared at her, dumb with desire and confusion.

'I'm not gonna fuck you covered in dirt.'

Part of him bristled at her words, but the more dominant part of him soared with joy. In the past he would have scoffed at her teasing, but now they were alone and it really seemed like she wanted him. He watched her undress and step beneath the spray, averting her gaze as he struggled with his buttons.

'Are you coming?' she asked as he hesitated.

He followed her, wincing as the water hit his injured shoulder.

'Here.' She poured shampoo into her palm and gently rubbed it into his hair. He stiffened immediately, remembering his Granny Susan who used to bathe him as a little boy, her needle-like fingers digging painfully into his scalp. It took a moment to relax under her touch. This is Carol, he repeated to himself. This is Carol.

He felt like cat, drugged with her gentle caresses, but his eyes snapped open when he saw her take a nail brush and carefully scrub the dirt from his fingers. Cleanliness was never something he was overly concerned with, even in Alexandria. It seemed to be part of the pretence that they lived under – those soft folk.

He was hit with a pang of shame when he realised how disgusting those hands must be to Carol – she who liked things clean and neat. She didn't want him touching her with those filthy hands.

As if reading his gloomy thoughts, she pressed her lips to his. At first the kiss was surprisingly chaste, but after a moment her mouth grew insistent. Her lips were cool against his, her tongue soft and wet. His mind went blank as her hand slipped between them and gently encircled his penis.

He couldn't believe how good it felt, her mouth and hand working simultaneously to drive him out of his mind. In that moment, he had no idea why they hadn't done this before, why they hadn't done this every day.

Her hand moved faster and he was sure his heart would explode when he suddenly came all over her hand and belly. He hid his face in her neck as her hand stilled, his groans long and embarrassingly loud.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. He heard her laugh and his heart clenched.

'Good thing we're in a shower, huh?'

He relaxed again, allowing the haze of pleasure to run its course. They cleaned up and jumped out of the stall together. Carol grabbed a towel and rubbed his skin with slow, languorous circles. Daryl stared at her body, jewelled with droplets of water.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and traced her hips with his fingers, moving them up her sides and under her arms. He caressed her back and felt a soft, smooth expanse so unlike his own furrowed, ravaged skin.

He gently pressed her back against the cold tiles, cautious of her injuries and buried his face in the curve of her neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he grazed his teeth over her skin, soothing the sting with his tongue. He dipped his head to kiss her breasts, deranged with happiness as he sucked one into his mouth until she gasped and squirmed against him.

He trailed a hand over her smooth, flat stomach and between her legs, relishing how wet and warm she felt. Tracing a slow line with his index finger, he grinned with satisfaction and arousal when she moaned aloud and bucked her hips.

'Steady, girl,' he mumbled, feeling bold.

'Daryl, now.' She pressed her palms against his back, urging him on. Without hesitation, he pushed inside her, groaning unrestrainedly. He paused to look into her eyes before he began to move. Nothing felt better than this – nothing.

He saw her bite her lip to stop herself from crying out as his thumb ghosted over her clitoris.

'Oh fuck. Oh Jesus, Daryl,' she moaned incoherently as he increased the speed of his thrusts, filled with the urgent need to fuck her pain away, to silence all the memories and ghosts for good.

She keened long and loud as a powerful orgasm crashed down on her, sending him over the edge into madness and bliss.

Eventually she opened her eyes and caught him in a burning gaze, and Daryl knew he could never give this up, not for anything. As she smiled at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, he was sure he'd never seen anything so beautiful.

The air had turned chilly and they quickly dressed, grinning affectionately at one other.

'I meant for us to do that in my room,' Carol said shyly.

He leaned in and kissed her softly. 'What's stopping us?'

She thought for a moment and laughed, as if realising that there were no chores to be done here, nobody to cook meals for, nobody to answer to.

'Come on.' She grabbed his wrist. 'Time for you to use those beautiful hands of yours on me some more.'