WARNING AND DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from The Walking Dead. All I can call mine is a ship name Caryl and hope for the next season. WARNING: This scene contains some references to violent behavior and eludes to adult themes of sexuality.

The gunshot echoed like a cannon in a metal room.

Daryl heard Morgan's sharp intake of breath and then realized his own body had done the same. "Rick," he heard himself utter against the chilly, blood stained, night air. It wasn't to get Rick's attention really, or admonish his friend, it wasn't said for any other purpose than identification. It was as if Daryl needed to hear the name out loud to realize that this was his friend. That the blood spattered, beat to hell, pale, grave looking shell of a human being in front of him was, indeed, the same Rick that Daryl had left at this compound only a few nights ago. For the first time in years Daryl didn't recognize him.

Morgan rushed forward and seized the wrist of Rick's gun hand. Then, much to Daryl's surprise, Morgan pulled Rick away into a solid bear hug of an embrace but, Daryl realized, there appeared to be nothing jovial about the way Morgan held Rick. It was more of a pulling restraint. Morgan appeared to be attempting to tug Rick away from the center of the gathered mass; away from the cooling bodies, away from the widow's screams.

Rick struggled against Morgan and, more out of habit than anything, Daryl leaned forward on the balls of his feet; his fists clenching. Daryl's body was a mass of live wires and heat, ready to lunge, when he felt the coolest of bands encircle his right wrist. His attention broke, for just a moment, but, that was all it took. She was silent next to him. She didn't speak or pull his arm. She didn't attempt to force him to move or dissuade him from leaping to his leader's aide but, when Daryl turned to see that the cooling touch belonged to Carol's slim fingers, he was immediately submersed in her icy tranquil blue gaze.

Logically Daryl knew that it was wrong for Carol to be so calm after what he had walked in on. Logically Daryl knew that Carol's demeanor meant she had a hand in the events he had just witnessed. And, logically Daryl knew that this fact should scare him. The cold calculation that had overtaken his best friend had been growing in her for months. Her black and white views of the world made it easier for her to cope with the reality they lived in now but, Daryl missed her shades of grey. The way she cared for the children at the prison. The way she insisted on seasoning for instant grits. The way she softly stroked the chickens to sooth them at the prison, even when she knew they were due for the stew pot. Those shades of grey were gone now, burned out of her by the world that they trudged through.

All that didn't matter though. All the logic and the reasoning could do nothing for Daryl's soul in the moment he met her gaze. As her eyes held his attention, even though he knew there wasn't a cloud in that night sky, Daryl smelled rain and felt an overwhelming coolness creep through his body as if her spirit was coaxing him to relax, to uncoil his muscles, and to breath. In; Daryl breathed in with her as he watched the minute changes in her body due to inspiration. Out, Daryl released the breath slowly, the last vestiges of unchecked hostility nullified by her hold on him.

Carol did not speak but, as she slowly removed her cool touch from his overheated skin, Daryl realized that this was the closest they'd even been to one another in a public setting. Aside from their spontaneous hug outside Terminus, this was the first time she'd touched him openly in front of others. Daryl's need to help Rick was suddenly replaced with a furious blush of embarrassment, that no one seemed to notice but, him, and, utter confusion as he watched Carol turn and walk into the darkness toward her house.

Something stirred in Daryl as he watched her walk away; something dark, something powerful, something lupine. Daryl felt it move under his chest wall; it was a part of him and yet separate. An individual force inside of him that he had only felt a half a dozen times before. A force that had only overtaken him before in times of survival. It evoked the smell of the woods; a deep musky scent that rolled through his body and into the baser core of his brain bringing forth a sense of possession and need. Daryl's attention snapped back to Rick and, as he watched, Rick and Abraham shared hushed words. Aaron moved around Daryl to crouch down by a sobbing Deanna and Reggie's corpse. Daryl watched as Aaron removed a small blade from his side pocket and slipped it in the base of Reggie's skull. Daryl turned back to see that Carol's form had disappeared in the inky blackness of the night.

Daryl gave the slightest of thoughts to the situation unfolding in front of him. The possibilities for emotional unrest, the possibilities for violence; it made his head hurt. He couldn't deal with it right now. It was all too much insanity. Just when world felt like the world was settling into something he could handle fate had to slap him with reality. Daryl closed his eyes and shut out the world around him. If he concentrated he could still feel the cool slip of Carol's fingers surrounding his wrist. The animal inside Daryl growled for his attention. It was turning Daryl's body as it stretched and moved beneath his skin and, almost as if on autopilot, the wolf inside him pulled Daryl into the dark to follow Carol's soft footfalls in the night.

Daryl caught up with her on the wrap around porch to the three story Victorian she was sharing with Abraham and Rosita. If he didn't know better he would swear she had been waiting for him. The front door was open but, she was just standing there watching him as he came through the darkness to stand directly in front of her.

Carol made no move to leave or any indication of her state of mind as Daryl came to a stop mere inches from her chest. She tracked his movements with eyes that betrayed no fear or uncertainty. There was something inside her that knew Daryl was curious about what had just happened. A normal person would have been angry or agitated at the scene that unfolded before Daryl but, Carol's battle hardened senses moved in her with animal precision these days. And, the animal that moved inside her smelled his curiosity before she saw him walk up. It was that animal inside she felt move within her when he stopped. It was all teeth and fur and it could feel the heat as it rolled off his body. No words had been spoken between them and yet Carol's breath hitched in her throat as the wolf inside her rolled and pushed against her chest wall. It wanted out. It sensed the wolf inside Daryl.

Daryl spoke first.

"You planned this." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of recognition of Carol's obvious influence over the circumstances of Pete's death.

Carol remained silent and elected to simply nod.

"He was beatin' her I figured," Daryl threw a head nod toward Jessie's house as he spoke.

The wolf inside Carol paced at Daryl's scrutiny. "He had to die." Her response was simple and cold.

Daryl grunted and nodded; a foreign need twisting in his gut. Heat pushed through his body and, without meaning to, he let the growl his wolf loosed escape through his mouth. He stepped closer to Carol and was not surprised when she didn't back up through the door; electing, instead, to let their chests press together in the doorway. "I wouldn't have let him hurt ya. Wadn't no need to go meddling like that; twisting Rick. I woulda done it. Woulda been easier on everybody." Despite his words the need in Daryl increased as he felt the cool skin just above the collar of her shirt press against the naked flesh inside the open buttons of his flannel. His wolf bucked against it's confines. It called to her growling with want.

Carol's wolf pushed and paced inside her trying to get to Daryl. He would have protected her? She already knew that but, a strange twist of desire gripped her gut at this admission. Her wolf remained indignant however. Did he not remember who she was? Did he not remember she could fight for herself? A snarl crossed her lips as she crept her face closer to his. Keeping a cool gaze locked she brought her lips so close to his he could smell the mint of her toothpaste and the lilacs of her moisturizer. "Pete was beating the little boy. Getting Rick to pull the trigger was the fastest way to end the nightmare. I couldn't get him to attack me or I would have done it myself but, after Pete and Rick fought...well…," Carol faltered momentarily before whispering, "I did what I had to." Carol never broke eye contact as she finished, "and, I'd do it again."

Daryl's mind reeled at the ice in her voice. The rational part of his brain was horrified at her behavior but, just as he made that realization something inside him snapped. Maybe it was the closeness of her mouth or steel in her eyes that did it but, regardless of the cause, the wolf inside Daryl Dixon broke loose and Daryl slammed his mouth over Carol's lips as he pushed her through the open door; kicking it closed behind them.