Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Make Me Forget

"The hell is this place?" Daryl grumbled, standing in front of the pretty little house with the white picket fence, the long-dead flowers wilted to little brown, crinkly crisps in painted flowerpots that dotted the porch rail. The house was white with light blue shutters, and there was a sign by the door that read "Welcome to Our Home." It had all the makings of a sappy family show.

Carol stared up at the place cocking her head to the side in consideration.

"This place?" She reached into her pocket and fished out a silver key. "It's my house." She glanced at him only for a moment before hoisting her pack up on her shoulder and starting up the porch steps.

Out of all of the houses on the block, hers was one of the very few that hadn't been burned down or had all the windows broken out.

"You sure you wanna go in there?" he asked, hesitating before stepping up behind her onto the porch.

"It's just a house. You think Ed's haunting it? Sophia? It's just four walls and a roof." She reached for the doorknob, and he reached out after her, placing his hand over hers. When her gaze met his, he withdrew his hand quickly and cleared his throat, taking a step back.

Daryl wasn't so good with the physical intimacy. They'd gotten to know one another quite well on the road over the winter, but he still had his hang-ups, and while Carol had always been a very touchy-feely person with friends in the past, Daryl wasn't used to something like that. And Daryl was a friend. He'd taught her how to shoot a gun, how to track, how to survive. He'd taught her many things she'd never even imagined she could ever be capable of before. He looked out for her. Much like he was looking out for her now.

"You don't gotta do this."

"It's getting late," she murmured, glancing up at the sky. "It'll be a cold one tonight." Daryl nodded then, reaching out for the key. She dropped it in his hand, and he whistled, waving, signaling the others parked three blocks back that it was safe to drive up. Two cars and a big truck pulled up behind Daryl's pickup, and the ragged crew piled out.

Rick came up first, gun drawn, Carl at his side. A heavily pregnant Lori was helped up the steps by Maggie and Beth, while Hershel, T-Dog and Glenn took the rear, keeping an eye out for stray walkers.

Daryl opened the door first, slowly sliding the door open with his foot while pointing his crossbow in first. He headed in first with Rick heading in behind him. It only took a couple of minutes for them to come in and give the all clear.

The group filed into the house, everybody gathering in the living room and collapsing onto the couch and floor and oversized recliner. Carol smirked at the stain she could never get out of the rug from when Ed had spilled a glass of bourbon.

Photos lined the walls. Carol tried not to pay attention. Wedding photos, baby photos, happy family photos that told a different story than reality. Everyone saw them. Nobody said anything.

"There's a guest room in the back. Big bed in there. Um, Carl, Beth? You two can have Sophia's old room. She had bunk beds in case her school friends wanted to stay over. It's the one by the bathroom. There's a den in the back. Ed used to watch football with his buddies in there. There's a really uncomfortable futon and a recliner. Then there's my room. Um…"

"You…can have that," Glenn said quietly. "It's still your house. You should get the master room."

"You and Maggie can have it," Carol said with a shrug.

"We're alright," Maggie said with a tired smile, rubbing Glenn's back slowly.

"I'll take a recliner," Lori chimed in, rubbing her large belly. "Easier to get in and out of, I think." She sighed heavily, and Carl scrambled out of the recliner to help his mother sit down.

"Help yourselves to any food left in the kitchen. I know we didn't have time to pack everything in the end. Carl? Beth? I'll show you to Sophia's room." The kids followed her down the hall, and she pointed at the room with the closed door.

"Did you want…did you want to go in first?" Beth offered.

"It's just a room," Carol said with a sad smile. "Go on. Put your stuff in. It's fine." Beth and Carl looked at one another for a moment before turning to walk into the room. Carol sighed heavily, moving toward the master bedroom, a room she'd thought she'd never see again. She opened the door and tossed her bag inside, eyes scanning the room. A TV on the wall, a bare-topped dresser against one wall, a King-sized bed flat against the wall, sheets still crumpled and unmade from their quick departure the morning all hell broke loose.

She jumped when a thud against the wall brought her out of her thoughts. She poked her head out into the hall. Daryl was standing there, pack slung over his shoulder.

"You lost?" she asked, a quirk in her eyebrow.

"Uh, no. Sorry. Just…figured I'd throw my shit in here for a while, if that's ok." Carol nodded, stepping out of the way so Daryl could throw his pack into the closet by the door.

"Where are you sleeping?"

"Probably the hall. Suits me just fine," he muttered. "Maggie found some beans. Some stale crackers. She's pullin' plates out now."

"I'll be in in a minute." She turned and looked back in the bedroom. Daryl could sense the hesitation in her when she paused in the doorway. He waited. She scoffed, shaking her head. "Just a room."

"What?"

"This. It's…just..memories. It's nothing." She shook her head and muttered something to herself, brushing past him and heading off to the kitchen to join the others. Daryl watched after her for a moment before glancing back into her room. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he reached out for the doorknob and gently shut the door.

...

The house was quiet now. The group had scattered all about the little house, and Carol had made her way back to that old room, a room she'd used to dread going into at night. She'd taken a lot of beatings in that room, screamed until her throat was raw, cried until the tears dried up. She felt a momentary wave of panic wash over her as she walked into the room with her single candlestick in her shaking hand.

She closed the door, sighing softly as she slumped against it. Peering around, she caught sight of a few candles she'd gotten for Christmas from random family friends, so she set them out on the dresser, lighting each one and illuminating the room just a little bit more. The mirror attached to the dresser illuminated the room just a little more, and she moved toward the bed, reaching down to pull back the crumpled comforter.

She could hear the floorboard creak as somebody passed by the door. She paused, briefly, before she began pulling the comforter and sheets off of the bed, unwilling to lie on the same sheets that Ed had laid on that last morning before all hell broke loose. She didn't want to be reminded of his smell, of the way he'd crawl on top of her whenever he felt like it, the way he'd spit into his hand and stick it down her pants, stroking her until he thought she was good and ready.

She winced at the memories of him pinning her hands above her head and panting against her neck, grunting and thrusting until he was done, when he would promptly roll off of her and bury his head into his pillow. He was always out like a light after.

She banged her foot into one of the legs of the bed frame, and she winced in pain.

"Shit!" she hissed, leaning against the bed and pulling her leg up to rub the sore toe. The door creaked open, and Daryl poked his head inside.

"You ok?" he asked. She nodded, wincing as she sat down on the bed. "Just breaking my toe is all."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Just…" She groaned, looking at the pile of sheets on the floor. "Just needed to change them." He nodded soberly, chewing his lip for a moment. He turned back toward the door.

"Hold on." She furrowed her brows at him, and she heard him knocking around in the closet moments later. When he returned, he held a fresh set of sheets and a folded bedspread, a quilt her mother had given her years before she'd even met Ed. Yes, that would do nicely. "Here. These better?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said with a relieved smile. She began to place the fitted sheet on the mattress, and to her surprise, he moved around the bed to help her. "Thank you." He nodded. It was silly, really, making up a bed that would only be used for one night, but when she glanced at him, he seemed to get it. If anybody got it, he would. Simply being in this house was almost too much, but Ed was dead, and so was that life. He couldn't hurt her anymore. He had no power over her, and she wasn't the same woman that he'd slapped around in that quarry just under a year ago. She'd changed, and she was proud of some of those changes. Still, the memories were flooding back, and it was sure to be a sleepless night.

Once the bed was set, Daryl shifted awkwardly as he made his way around the bed.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I appreciate the help." He nodded, clearing his throat as he headed toward the door. "Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't…you don't have to sleep in the hall. It's getting cold. You…you could sleep in here."

"S'alright. Don't mind."

"I…I mean, I don't…this room." She shook her head indicating that the last thing she wanted was to be alone in this room. Not this room.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Alright. Can sleep on the floor if you want." He started to grab for a pillow, leaning over slightly toward the front of the bed. Carol reached up, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Honestly, she hadn't known what had come over her. The last thing that had been on her mind had been this, but this was Daryl. This was the man that had saved her life on more than one occasion, had risked his life to try and find her daughter, had grieved in his own way when the truth about Sophia had come out. This was Daryl.

He straightened but turned toward her, and she chewed her lower lip anxiously, staring up into his eyes.

"What…what're you doin'?"

"Something crazy?" she suggested, stepping closer to him, bringing her hand up the side of his neck, gently curling her fingers at the back of his neck. She stood on her tiptoes, eyes on his as she bridged the gap. Her mouth was on his in a moment, and she felt him gasp against her lips, as if the simple touch was too much. She pulled back, pursing her lips and swallowing hard. "I'm sorry. I don't know what…I'm sorry, Daryl."

"You're sorry?" he asked then. She caught the look in his eyes.

"I…I shouldn't have." She moved away then, moved toward the door.

"Maybe not," he murmured, turning to look after her. She grabbed the doorknob, freezing in place, and that was when she felt him close the distance between them. This is new.

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning, back flat against the wall.

"Somethin' crazy," he murmured, a little grin pulling at his lips as he echoed her earlier words. He leaned forward then, pressing his lips against hers, and she gasped softly, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as she felt the warmth of his mouth against hers, and God, it was intoxicating.

"Daryl," she murmured, as he grew brave, moving his hands down her shoulders and arms and around her back, pulling her out from the door and against him. She moaned softly at the feeling of being pulled flush against him.

When he pulled back, he took a few deep breaths, watching her, gauging her reaction. He watched her look around the room, watched the memories start to seep back in.

"I should go," he murmured without even moving.

"You should stay," she replied with a little shake of her head. "I'd like you to stay." Her hand moved out, reaching for his, while the other reached behind her, locking the door. "This room has too many bad memories." Make me forget. "I don't want to be alone." She stepped toward him then, swallowing down her anxieties, pushing back the old memories that made her heart ache. He could see them then, flashing in her eyes as she moved toward him, and he lost all ability to think as her hands came up his arms and over his broad shoulders. He took a shuddering breath in when she kissed him again.

His hands were on her hips then, gently squeezing as he pulled her in closer. He broke back, pressing his forehead against hers. This was new. Different. Good different. He'd been watching for her for some time, intrigued by her. He'd felt protective of her, felt responsible for finding Sophia, because he'd known the woods best. And then after her death, he'd lashed out, even at Carol, until that winter when he'd been teaching her how to shoot, and she'd point blank told him to cut the shit, because pulling away and reverting back to the person he used to be wasn't an option. All they could do was look forward. He'd grown up. He'd understood. She'd lost her daughter and survived. Surely he could, too.

At some point that winter, intrigue had turned to attraction, and even the slightest brush of a and against his arm or the hint of a smile in conversation had him on edge, ready to either run or grab her and show her exactly what he was thinking. But he'd held back, always finding an excuse to get away, to go hunting. And then, at night, when she was sleeping, he'd find an excuse to stay close, to watch over her. He'd spent a lot of time watching her sleep.

She closed her eyes, shuddering as Daryl's hand moved up her arm and around her neck, fingers gently massaging the base of her neck.

"Want me to stop?" His voice was low and gruff, but the difference was that he wasn't demanding. He wasn't just taking what he wanted without any concern for her. This was foreign territory.

"No," she murmured, bringing her hand up to rest against his chest. "I didn't know you…you wanted this." She eyed him, wondering if he really wanted it, or if she was just the closest warm body.

"Been watchin' you," he admitted. "You're different. You ain't that woman I met at the quarry that day. You're stronger than I thought."

"I'm stronger than I thought," she said with a little smile. "And I have you to thank for that. You've helped me so much, Daryl. You…you've taught me things I never would have learned if…if Ed were here. And I'm grateful." She looked around. "Still. This room." She shook her head, looking away. That was when he brought his hand to her chin, gently tilting her face up toward his. "The memories."

"He's dead. Can't hurt you no more."

"I know," she murmured, taking a deep breath. "But there was a lot of hurt in this room. A lot." Daryl paused for a moment, considering Carol's words. Finally, he bridged the gap, kissing her softly before pulling back.

"Not tonight," he promised. And it was Carol's undoing. She pulled her arms around him, moaning softly as she kissed him, opening herself up to him, letting go of every nasty thing Ed had said to her or made her feel about herself. She cried out softly, as Daryl's hand moved up her waist, skimming under her shirt, hand drifting up to cup her bra-covered breast. She pushed herself against his hand, moaning as he backed her up against the door, kissing the hollow of her throat.

"God," she whispered, "Daryl…please." He groaned softly, sucking softly on her neck as her hands moved over his back, gently scratching down the back of his angel wing vest. He pressed into her then, rocking his hips gently against hers to let her know what he needed, and he needed to know that she needed it, too.

When her hands came around to push at his vest, sliding it down his arms, he knew she was completely on board. He grabbed her hips then, lifting her lithe frame easily. Her legs came around his waist instinctively, and his hands slid behind her back, cradling her against his chest as he backed away from the door, blindly carrying her to the bed.

He stopped just short of falling over, and he turned, placing her on the freshly made bed. She scooted back a little, quickly ridding herself of her shirt, keeping her eyes on him the entire time, the redness in her neck and cheeks showing her insecurities, but the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful, made her feel like Ed had never made her feel.

He started with her pants, unbuttoning them, sliding them down her legs, pressing kisses to her chest and her stomach, making her feel good, making her moan. She reached for him, trying to unbutton his sleeveless shirt, but his hand stopped over hers.

"It's ok," she whispered, arching up, kissing his cheek. "It's ok. I know. I've seen them." Daryl paused for a moment, looking into her eyes, seeing a piece of himself there. She knew too much about scars. She had her own. She understood.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, and he let her work the buttons off, kissing down his chest as she worked, her nimble fingers hooking into the fabric and sliding it down his arms once it was unbuttoned. She let her hands explore his bare chest and back then, feeling the defined ridges of his scars, kissing his shoulder blades and his neck, sucking there as his hands worked the clasp of her bra. He needed to feel her skin against his.

He released the clasp, and her breasts bounced slightly, as Carol shifted the bra off her arms. He leaned forward then, kissing her neck, trailing his tongue gently along the line of her neck, down between her breasts. She arched back, gasping softly as his mouth enclosed over a nipple. Her fingers scratched down his back then, creating little red lines along his scars.

And then her hands were on the button of his pants, and she was tugging and pushing, and his tongue was sliding against her lips. She gasped softly, when one hand slipped between her legs, gently rubbing her through the fabric of her white, cotton panties. She moaned, gently tugging at his lip with her teeth, sliding his pants down his legs, feeling the heat of his thighs against her fingertips in moments.

"Gotta see you," he panted, gripping the band of her panties and tugging, sliding them down as she raised her hips and shimmied out of them. Her skin was flushed a pretty pink, and he kissed her swollen mouth, reaching between her legs to stroke her, feeling how wet she was, how much she wanted him. He shivered then, and her hand enclosed around his dick, stroking him. When he froze, she pulled away.

"Sorry," she whispered. "You don't like that?"

"No…I…I do. You don't have to. Don't gotta do nothin' you ain't ready for." Carol smiled then, as if a realization had struck her, and he saw the tears form in her eyes. This. This was what she'd been ready for since she could remember. This feeling. This need from another. This mutual desire. Somehow, the way he touched her managed to reach down inside of her and break open feelings she hadn't felt before, feelings that she'd never thought she would feel, and it was like standing over an abyss. Her stomach dropped. It was like being in arm's length of pure, unfettered bliss, but the future was so uncertain. Reach too far, and it could all come crashing down.

But she took the plunge, falling into him, pulling him down on her, hip to hip, fingers curling around him as she guided him inside. The muffled sounds he made against her neck reverberated through her, and she pulled her knees up a little, pulling him deeper inside, as his hand moved up her calf and thigh, gently curling around her waist as he filled her.

"You ok?" he panted, gently brushing his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. She nodded, tears stinging her eyes, smiling as she leaned into him, kissing him again. Her breath against his skin made him tremble. Never in his life had he felt like this with anybody. Sex had been sex, but this was more. This felt…amazing. It felt like a new chapter for both of them, and as he gazed down into her eyes, a word escaped his lips.

"Beautiful," he murmured. She sighed softly then, burying her face against his neck as he moved inside of her, crying out softly as his hand moved between them, fingers lightly circling her clit as her muscles squeezed around him. Perfect fit.

They moved together, exploring, touching, tasting. Her hands moved over his scars, etching new memories into them. His mouth pressed soft kisses to her neck and shoulders, reminding her that the past was gone, filling her with a need for more. More of him. More of this. A word bubbled at her lips, but she didn't dare utter it. It was too soon. It was too much. But she felt it, and as she curled her fingers into his hair and cried out as she went over the edge, he pressed his face against her neck, and she knew he felt it, too.

The dark memories these walls contained would remain, but she was changed forever. She would carry that hope, that light in the dark, that warmth on a cold night.

And when it was over, and he slept soundly at her side, she traced her fingers along the curves of his muscular arms, over the line of his jaw, over his lips. She wouldn't sleep much, as she'd expected, but it wasn't because of where she was or what had happened so long ago. It was because of this new feeling inside of her, this hope, this happiness that she couldn't even describe.

Whatever happened, happened. Whatever happened tomorrow, they would deal with. But in this moment, she was happy, and that would carry her through until tomorrow.