Author's Note: Hey all :) New story!

Some of my Tumblr followers already heard this bit, but for everyone else, I have had this fic drafted for like a full year now. I kept putting it aside, then coming back to it, but then MAKING myself return to the ongoing stories because that's where my focus needed to be. But then this week I was skimming through it again and I was sort of shocked to see that it was literally forty pages, and it was nearing a complete draft. It seemed kind of dumb at that point to not take a stab at finally wrapping it up. And here we are :) It's a stand alone, unrelated to my other worlds, two shot.

So, we're at the CDC, pretty much to canon for what was seen onscreen through season one events, plus a back story romance for Carol and Daryl 'pre show,' because who is to say really, what happened before we got to camp ;)

Also, if interested, I put a couple of screenshots up on my Tumblr (sienna27) to show them in these 'scenes' here. If you don't have Tumblr, just google it with my name and you can still look at my public page. Everything's tagged on the side.

How I Lost You

Carol let her book drop onto the cushion, and rolled over to stare up at the ceiling of the small room that she was sharing with her daughter. Her hands came up to scrub across her face.

It wasn't the book eliciting that reaction, it was just that she couldn't focus on reading, period.

And it had been at least two hours since she'd last seen or talked to anyone besides Sophia, who was now long asleep and sprawled out on her stomach, covered over in a blue blanket, on the other couch a few feet away. This late at night (coming up on near eleven pm if the ticking clock on the wall was correct), and after the weeks of hell that they'd all been living, Carol would've expected to have dropped off by now as well. Instead she just felt really wired, and it wasn't only her body that was keyed up.

There was too much on her mind too.

One of her dominant thoughts at that moment, was a genuine worry about just how safe they really were there in the CDC. Yes, obviously by all accounts, this place was a literal fortress, but oddly enough its 'fortress status,' was kind of the point that was constantly tickling her brain. Because with a place this big, one that had had so many thousands of people working there to start, how could Dr. Jennings be so certain that every one of those people had been accounted for, and that there no stray walkers wandering around in some forgotten conference room or sub basement? It just seemed like their group would really need to do a full, top to bottom scan of the place, with a set of blueprints in hand, before they could even think of living in there without some lingering concerns. You just couldn't take safety for granted anymore.

Not these days.

And her idea for a full search, was something that she was going to mention to Lori tomorrow so that she could say then something to Rick. Because even if Rick was the newest member of their group, somehow he'd already become their de facto leader. She wasn't quite sure how that had happened, but . . . her brow wrinkled slightly . . . it did seem that they were now following him pretty much blindly. Not that he'd been doing such a bad job so far, he had gotten them out of the woods and into this place, and this place was on its face, pretty amazing. Like their rooms on this floor. They might have only been four plain walls and a couple of couches, but compared to the way they'd been living for almost a month now, four real walls and a couple of couches was practically the Shangri La! And when you threw in not only having AC and indoor plumbing again, but actually having PRIVATE bathrooms with hot, running water, Carol had been thinking (once they did that final walker check) that she could gleefully spend the rest of her days living inside this place with her little girl, and the group that was becoming their new family.

But of course that was a pipe dream.

Because she knew that eventually whatever generators were keeping the water hot and the lights on and the AC blasting, well, they were going to run out of power. The food would go too. At that point they'd have to either move on to somewhere else, or start going out and scavenging again. But for now, maybe even for a few months, or potentially a year or so, (if God was kinder than he'd been lately), they'd have shelter and food, and . . . she sighed . . . showers. The shower thing was just a bonus . . . it was amazing how quickly priorities shifted when the world ended . . . but it wasn't a bonus that she was ever going to take for granted again. Because getting to take a hot soapy shower that night, her first one in maybe six or seven weeks, had practically been an orgasmic experience. Though the last orgasm she'd had (battery operated of course) was probably a few months or so even before her last shower, so she was really digging into her long term memories now. Thinking about orgasms though, that did put her mind onto the other thing that was keeping her awake. Her mouth twisted then with a sad smile.

And that would be Daryl.

The man had been on her mind pretty much constantly all evening. Which was, if she was honest with herself, the main reason why she was so keyed up. Because for the last few hours, she'd been feeling this pull in her gut like she should go talk to him. Though if she did venture out into that cold, empty hallway to go over and knock on his door, what she would actually say to him if he opened it up, she had no idea. Her mind just kept going blank at that point. And that was even though there had been a time in the very recent past, where spending private time with Daryl had been the most natural thing in the world. But that was because they'd bonded very quickly after her arrival in camp. Unfortunately they'd lost that special connection just before Merle was left behind here in the city. One situation technically had nothing to do with the other, but at the time Merle disappeared, she'd already been heartbroken about losing what she'd been building with Daryl. And then once Merle was gone, Daryl's rage over how he'd lost his brother, had pushed him completely off the rails. So even though Ed was gone now too (and she'd been thanking God every day for finally letting her and Sophia get free from that man), she still hadn't tried to talk to Daryl yet, to see if he was interested in picking up from before. She'd just been afraid that he was still too angry at the world to want to focus yet on . . . she sighed . . . other things. Not that his rage hadn't been understandable.

Or at least it had been understandable to her.

Because even if Merle wasn't anyone to write home about, (unless it was a REALLY bad letter), he was still Daryl's only family and what had been done to him, accident or not, was horrible. So Carol could put herself in Daryl's position, to imagine a situation where say, someone went off with Sophia . . . the only family SHE had left . . . and just left her girl somewhere. If that happened she'd be OUT OF HER MIND(!) crazy and frantic, imagining all of the terrible things that could be happening to her girl. So unlike the others, who had mostly just shown annoyance at Daryl's grief driven outbursts, all she'd been was worried about him. And she would have liked to see if there was anything she could have done to help him these last few days, but again, she hadn't thought he was in the right mindset to want to talk to anyone about anything.

He'd just needed to rage for a little while.

And from her own experiences with him, she'd known that rage would pass soon enough, because it really was out of character for him to be so volatile. Yes, Daryl had gotten into a few heated exchanges with some of the other members of the camp even before Merle's loss, but in most of those cases, Daryl hadn't been the one to start things. Generally he'd just been defending himself or his brother. And he wasn't always the one in the wrong either. Sometimes people just liked to think that he was 'less' because of how he talked, and how he looked. That was still the problem with the people left alive even now.

They kept judging others based on their appearance.

And based on their appearance alone, the Dixon brothers might have been taken for ignorant, backwoods, hillbillies. The only part of that assessment which would be true though, was the backwoods thing. Because it had been obvious to Carol from her first day in camp, that both Daryl and Merle were much sharper, and more observant, than any of the others gave them credit for. Daryl especially was very clever, which was why it was so strange to her how she seemed to have been the only one to have picked up on that. Her expression softened.

Or maybe it was just that she was the only one who had cared to look at him beyond the superficial.

But when her family had first arrived up at the quarry with Lori and Shane and Carl, the Dixons had already been in camp for two or three days. And it was within an hour of them unpacking, that the other women already there, like Andrea and Jacqui, had come over to start warning her and Lori away from any kind of contact with either Daryl or Merle. When it came to Merle, yes, the reasons for a person to keep their distance from him had been obvious on their face. Because really, it wasn't like he'd ever tried to project a version of himself to the world, that was any different than the man he'd been. And the man Merle Dixon had been, was a loud, racist, foulmouthed, jerk. Such a jerk in fact, that outside of sharing his brother's hunting skills . . . which the group had quickly become dependent on to keep full bellies for the children . . . the only thing Merle'd had going for him character wise, was that he had taken an instant dislike of Ed.

It was honestly the only other positive thing Carol could say about that man.

With Daryl though, after being around him for barely a day, and comparing his actual behavior to what she'd been told about his behavior, to Carol it had seemed that he was disliked more for association with his brother, than for anything that he'd actually done himself. Yes again, he had butted heads a few times with the others, and with Shane most especially. But by Carol's initial observations even then, it had seemed that Shane had been as much responsible for those run-ins (and all of their subsequent ones) as Daryl was. And knowing Shane as she did now, she knew how much of a genuine prick that man could be all on his own for no reason, to anyone and everyone. Most especially though, to anyone he saw was a threat to his authority.

Like Daryl was.

Which was why during those few weeks when they were all together, no matter what Daryl did to try and help the group, be it bringing in fresh game for them on a near daily basis, being the first one to step up to take out a stray walker, or just putting himself out there going on runs for gas and general supplies, none of it had ever been good enough for Shane to show him even an ounce of real respect. It had always been just a patronizing tolerance. She scowled a bit.

It was the exact same thing that he showed towards her.

In Daryl's case though, Shane also liked to mutter under his breath about him and Merle being meth heads. And that was one insult in particular which had really bothered her, because yet again, the only one of the Dixon brothers who Carol had ever seen using drugs or acting like they were, 'under the influence,' had been Merle. If anything Daryl had always looked kind of embarrassed, and a little annoyed, when his brother would show up for meals blatantly high as a kite. Because of course he'd known that was only going to make things worse when it came to their interactions with the group.

And the group had definitely taken Shane's lead in how to treat the brothers.

Carol though, she'd very quickly come to see a completely different side of Daryl. Because in her early days, she'd just been so happy to be around other people again . . . Ed had never allowed her to be around other people . . . that she'd immediately started looking for ways to try to make herself useful in the hopes that that would deflect from just how lazy and unhelpful, Ed was. So after their first full day at the quarry where she'd made herself a quick study of the basic routine of who generally did what when it came to chores, the next morning she'd started her own routine. One where she'd get up in the pre-dawn hour . . . a full hour before the other ladies . . . so she could stoke the coals for the day's fire, and get breakfast going for everyone. And usually the only other person up at that time of the morning (besides whoever was sitting up on the roof on walker duty) was Daryl, because he'd head out early every day to go hunting. That first day she got up though . . . her eyes crinkled as she thought back . . . he'd barely even looked at her.

At least not straight in the eye.

It had felt more like when she was back high school, and the shy boys would only look at the girls if they thought they weren't looking back. That was Daryl. So it wasn't until day two where she'd gotten a little bit of real eye contact from him. That was the day she'd also gotten her first, 'grunt.' And that was while he'd been walking over to grab up the first cup of coffee from the pot, and the first scoop of the oatmeal that she'd made. It wasn't until later that evening when she'd got another grunt while she'd been passing him his bowl of rabbit stew, that Carol had realized the grunts had simply been Daryl's way of saying thank you. And the next morning, to add onto the first grunt of the day, there'd also been a little head tip from him after he'd cleaned out his bowl of hot cereal, and finished off his second cup of coffee. That time the translation had been immediately clear.

That was good . . . thank you.

His behavior had been fascinating to her. Because just being around a man like that, one who spoke so few words, but still managed to project a genuine gratitude for her efforts, had been really touching. Probably because that gratitude from him, had been more than she'd ever gotten from her own husband.

Ever.

At first she'd been thinking they would just go on like that indefinitely. Because even though she'd thought that his shy ways were kind of sweet . . . those shy boys were the ones she'd liked in high school . . . it had been so long since she'd talked to a man, as a man, that she was sure any attempt on her part to make conversation with him, would've just ended in her making a fool of herself. But then came their third day of having breakfast alone together, and that was the day when the conscious decision to talk or not talk, was taken completely out of both their hands.

And she could only thank her COMPLETE and utter stupidity for it!

Because that morning, while she'd been leaning over the pit and stirring the regular pan of oatmeal, she hadn't noticed a breeze had started to kick up around her. The breeze had fanned the flames of the fire well above what they'd should have been.

But she hadn't pick up on that either.

Suddenly though, Daryl had jumped up from his chair, and had grabbed her arm as he'd yanked her back to his chest. And she'd been so startled by his actions . . . she still hadn't noticed how high the flames had gotten . . . that with her other arm, she'd knocked the oatmeal off the tripod and it had splattered into the fire. But even while she'd been letting out a horrified, "oh, God, I ruined breakfast!" Daryl had been busy putting out the spark she'd caught on her sleeve. Yeah, that had been the biggest thing she'd missed.

Her sweater catching on fire.

It had all happened so fast that she honestly hadn't realized what was going on, until this man, who to that point hadn't spoken even one full syllable to her yet, was furiously rubbing her wrist and forearm between both of his palms. And he kept rubbing at it until the thin fabric had finally stopped smoking. That's when he'd finally pulled his slightly blackened hands away. Then his wild eyes had snapped down to hers, and he'd hissed, "are you all right?!" That was the first thing he'd ever said to her.

Are you all right?!

And the words had come with a clear note of panic and worry. For a second though, she'd still been too stunned at how quickly she'd gone from blindly stirring the oatmeal, to her clothes BEING ON FIRE, to even answer him. She'd just stared up into those bright blue eyes of his reflecting back the flames down below. But then there had been another little kick-up of the breeze and she'd gotten a whiff of the ruined breakfast. That's when she'd looked down at her arm still bent stiff out there in front of her.

There was a brownish black puckering covering over most of the bottom half of her sleeve.

"I, I don't know," she'd finally stuttered back to him, with a touch of her own rising panic starting to undercut her words, "but my arm feels really warm!"

At the time it hadn't occurred to her how her arm might have felt so warm because Daryl had been rubbing it so hard to put out the spark. And given how he'd clucked and bit his lip at her response, she was pretty sure when she gave him that answer, that point hadn't occurred to him yet either. So with images of burning flesh bubbles rising beneath the puckered cloth of her sweater, with her other hand, Carol had gone to yank the cuff up. But then again Daryl's hand had clamped down on her other wrist, that time to stop her movement as he'd hissed, "Jesus, no! You gotta do it slow! 'Cuz if any of the fabric melted to your skin, you don't want to be ripping that off!"

It was a comment that had painted SUCH an immediate, and horrifying, picture in her mind, that Carol had actually turned her head and spit up a little pool of bile, and fresh coffee, into the dirt at their feet. And apparently her getting sick like that had really made an impression on Daryl. So he'd reached out and touched her shoulder, and when her watery eyes had snapped up to his, all she'd seen was a sad, very gentle, smile.

"It'll be all right," he'd whispered to her with a much softer tone than he'd used the last time, "ya just gotta do it real careful, that's all."

His calm had helped her a little, but still she'd felt sick. So she'd continued to just stare up at him for a minute until finally her free hand had fallen to her stomach, and she'd looked off into the darkened trees.

"You do it," she'd crackled over the gravel in her throat, "I can't."

So he had.

With her eyes still locked onto the early morning mist swirling through the trees, she'd felt Daryl, so slowly, and oh so very gently, loosening her cuff, and then sliding that crispy fabric up her arm. It wasn't until the morning air was cooling her too warm skin, that his fingertips had begun to ghost along her flesh, turning her arm one way, and then the other. When he'd finally finished checking her over, he'd let both of his hands fall away, and then there had been a faint, relieved, hum of, "naw, you're okay. It's just a bit pink, is all. Must've got it right when it started smoking."

Then before she could even react to that, he'd turned around, and with the big stick they kept by the pit to stoke up the flames, he'd dug the slightly scorched oatmeal pan out of the fire. After that, he'd grabbed one of their pot holders, and had reached down to pick it up by the handle. It wasn't until she'd seen him turn and walk over to the bushes to dump out the burned food back in the weeds where nobody else would see it, that she'd felt a peculiar fluttering in her stomach. Because that's when everything he'd just done for her had finally sunk in, and she'd realized how that man who everybody else barely seemed to tolerate, really was NOTHING at all like what the others thought. The reality was, that buried right beneath the surface of those rough manners of his, was a gentle, kind, man. The problem had been, was that back when all that had happened, she hadn't been able to tell anyone else what she'd learned about him that day, because then she would have had to explain about the fire, and the oatmeal, and how afterwards, Daryl had taken care of first her, and then everything else.

And Ed would have made her pay dearly for all of that.

First, he would have given her a smack simply for not paying attention to the flames, and then she would have gotten a SECOND smack for 'wasting food.' And that was just the light stuff. The full on beating would have come once he'd known how Daryl had touched her the way that he had. It wouldn't have mattered that the touch was innocent, that he'd only been checking for burns, because when Ed was alive she hadn't been allowed to have any kind of physical contact with another man. Even her doctors had had to be women. Her jaw twisted.

That had been another one of 'Ed's Rules.'

So nobody ever knew what Daryl had done for her . . . how that was the first time that he'd saved her. And later that afternoon while they were all eating lunch, when Andrea had started in on him for something so stupid that Carol couldn't even remember now what it was, she hadn't stood up for him. She'd put her fears for her own safety above what she'd known was the right thing to do.

She'd been so ashamed of herself.

And that was even though Daryl personally, hadn't seemed to have held her silence against her. Because from that day on, the day her sweater had caught fire, he'd become . . . she bit her lip as she thought back . . . protective. Not in front of the others of course, that would have been bad for both of them, but on each of those subsequent mornings after the day where the flames had fanned too high, she would get up to make breakfast for the group, and Daryl would already be there, standing by the pit and stoking the fire . . . but spreading out the coals at the same time.

It had been like he'd wanted to make sure she didn't catch a stray flame again.

And even though at first they were both maybe a little nervous around each other, they'd never really been all that awkward. Because after two more days of them alone in the morning with her shy smiles to him, and his very faint, though obvious amusement at the way she'd talk to herself while she got breakfast ready, by their fifth day . . . her sixth day in camp . . . they had finally figured out how to spend that time together. And what they'd worked out, was that while she'd cook, he would sit on the log bench drinking his coffee and watching the flames for her. And that's when they'd begun to talk about the world like it had been before. Not how their personal lives had been . . . from the beginning, she'd had a gut feeling that was as dark a territory for him as it was her . . . but more just random things. TV shows they'd watched growing up. Music they'd liked when they were teenagers.

Strange things that they'd missed.

Like the sound of an airplane flying overhead, or the hum of a refrigerator in the middle of the night. The feel of a can of cold can of beer on a hot day, when you first pressed it against your cheek.

That last one had been Daryl's.

And after he'd murmured those words down into his coffee cup, afterwards he'd seemed kind of embarrassed. Like he'd shared something that he'd thought she'd think was silly. Which was why she'd quickly given him a little smile across the fire, and after a moment he'd given her a grateful nod back . . . then everything had been okay again.

It was like her sweater catching that spark, had formed one between them too.

Or maybe that was just a silly, lonely woman's, thought. Whatever it was that had happened between them during those few weeks though, it had been real. She was sure enough of that.

And it had meant the world to her.

A few times Daryl had even said something to make her a laugh. And when that had happened, she'd seen how her being happy seemed to make him happy. His eyes would sparkle a bit and a faint smile would start to pull at the corner of his mouth. But he'd always bring the back of his hand up to cover it over, almost like he'd been embarrassed. If she'd had more confidence in herself, she might have told him that he hadn't needed to ever be embarrassed about anything he did in front of her. That she would never make fun. But she'd never said those words to him.

It was another of her regrets.

At her age she had so many now. And because their little bubble had popped so suddenly, she'd had no time yet to make that last one right either. Because it was two days before that run to Atlanta where Rick became a part of their group, when she'd tripped on a rock. That's what had ruined everything between them.

A rock.

It had happened at dinner time, the sun was just starting to set, the evening meal of brown beans and fried squirrel was already cooked, and she'd been carrying the stack of clean plates and silverware from the RV, down the hill and over to the pit. It had been a cloudy day though, and with it being so late, there had been too many shadows under the trees. So that's why she'd missed seeing the edge of the big rock poking up out of the dirt. And right when she'd tripped, Daryl had just been coming up from the other direction to go sit down for dinner. Most everybody else had already gathered together and were there talking, and going over the day.

He'd been one of the stragglers.

And when she'd suddenly stumbled, she'd ended up losing her footing completely. She'd gone down to both knees, and one hand, with the plastic plates making an awful racket as they'd flown from her arms and had scattered around her. Then with Daryl, it was just like the day with her sweater. Like he hadn't even thought about where they were, or who was around, he'd just rushed right towards her, looking so worried, asking if she was okay. And that was even though usually they were SO careful not to ever talk when anyone else was around to see them. On that day though, when he'd got to where she was on the ground, he'd already been reaching out to help her up. But she'd been frozen down there. Because they hadn't been alone.

Ed had been there.

Everyone had been there! But she'd known that her husband was the one who was watching them the closest, and so she'd been absolutely terrified of what he might've done to her . . . to both of them . . . if she'd actually taken Daryl's hand like she'd so desperately wanted to. And while she'd been thinking about that, thinking just how much she'd wanted to be free, that's when her eyes had started to well up. And when Daryl had seen her tears, his jaw had tightened.

He'd yanked his hand away.

Until that moment, there had just been silence from the small group down the hill. But then Merle had let out a cackle of, "oh baby brother, you so sweeeet!" followed by 'kissing' sounds. Daryl's face had immediately flushed pink straight up to the tips of his ears. And she'd hated Merle so much in that moment. For embarrassing his brother just because he'd cared that she was hurt, and had been trying to be nice to her. Because then right after that, Daryl had suddenly kicked the plates out of his way, and had turned and stormed off into the woods. Of course he hadn't come back for dinner, and that night she'd still gotten an extra hard, closed fist, punch from Ed. Not only because of Daryl . . . "you're thinking about whoring around on me with that dirty redneck, aren't ya," was what he'd hissed in her ear . . . but simply for dropping the plates.

Because that was just how things were.

And the next morning, even with her skinned palm from the fall, and the pain from the fresh bruise on her ribs, she'd still been so looking forward to seeing Daryl, and apologizing to him for how she'd frozen up in front of everyone. In her mind she'd thought it wouldn't be that hard to smooth everything over.

To make it like it had never happened.

Because she'd just been so sure that after Daryl'd had the night to let that scene really sink in, he would have understood for himself how there had been no way for things to have gone any differently than they'd had. Because before that moment on the hill, their interactions had always been carefully restricted, first to only those pre-dawn hours, and then later to moments stolen together down by the quarry. And the first quarry meeting had been a complete accident. It was maybe a week after they'd started having breakfast together, that one afternoon she'd gone down there alone to get a shirt she'd left drying on the scrub. It wasn't until she'd reached the bottom of the grade that she'd realized Daryl had gotten back to camp, and was taking a swim to cool down after being out roaming the woods for ten hours. When she'd seen him floating there, slowly fanning his legs back and forth, gliding across that smooth water, she'd been almost hypnotized. She'd found herself dropping down to the sand just to watch him.

Really, she'd never seen anyone so graceful in the water.

Luckily though, he'd still been wearing all of his clothes for that swim, or else when he'd spotted her over on the beach he probably would have been completely mortified. As it was, instead he'd just flipped his body around with a faint splash, and had started to tread water. After a minute of just staring at her, he'd looked up to the sky, and then he'd looked back to her, before he'd finally called over, "if you can come back same time tomorrow, I'll be here. You bring some washing, and I'll put my stuff on the other shore, so then if anyone else comes by, they'll just think it's a coincidence we're here at the same time."

His words had been loud enough for her to hear, but definitely not loud enough to travel beyond the confines of the quarry itself. And the thought of them having a regular, secret meeting like that out in the daytime, had been so exhilarating that she'd actually felt a fresh swirl of butterflies in her stomach. And by then, just seeing Daryl had been enough for those butterflies to show up all on their own. That's why it had seemed worth the risk of someone possibly getting suspicious of them, just to get more time together. So she'd given him a nod and a happy smile, and told him that Ed was usually napping from three to five anyway, so she'd find a way to get back without anyone else noticing.

And she had.

For most of their second week together, they'd had their mornings by the fire and then their afternoons by the water. The latter meeting was only fifteen, twenty minutes at most just to be safe though. And they always spent the time the same way, with him in the shallows and her over on the shore. That way even if they were spotted together, it would have been very hard to accuse them of fooling around when they had a whole body of water between them. It had all looked very innocent.

And mostly it was.

Sometimes he'd tell her about his day in the woods, like if he'd seen any walkers or had traveled somewhere new. And sometimes she'd tell him what the gossip was around the camp, but other times they talked about more serious things. Like if he'd spotted a new bruise on her body, he'd ask what had happened. So then she'd tell him what she'd 'done' (usually nothing) to earn that one. And Daryl would get so mad, and he'd talk about beating the crap out of Ed. Telling her how he'd do it when she was ready to get free of him.

Those would be the days she'd start to cry.

Because she'd known that she was never going to be ready. If she'd had that kind of courage, then she would have stayed at the shelter in Atlanta all those years ago. And with the way the world had become after the turn, Ed himself had gotten so much more dangerous than even he'd been before. Nothing was keeping him in check, and she hadn't been willing to risk Daryl getting hurt. Not on her account. So she'd just sniffle and wave her hand at him, and shake her head.

And he'd let it go.

Usually after that he'd just swim and watch her out of the corner of his eye, while she'd pretend to scrub up some already clean shirts while she'd watched him out of the corner of her eye. And that probably wouldn't have seemed like anything at all to anyone else. But to them . . . to two people who literally had nothing . . . it was a lot.

For her it had been everything.

Which was why she'd been sure that the day after she'd tripped over that damn rock, the plan she'd had to get her and Daryl back on track . . . for however long they could have stayed on that track . . . should have gone off without any problems. But that was before she'd realized that Daryl had apparently made a different plan for that morning. One where he'd both refused to look at her, or speak to her, no matter how much she'd apologized or pleaded with him, to please just listen to what she'd wanted to say. Instead he'd simply shoveled down his oatmeal, and tossed back his coffee, while he'd stood on the other side of the fire, and outside the circle of chairs. He'd been making it clear to her that the only reason he'd shown up was because he'd needed to eat . . . not because he'd wanted to see her. Because then when he was done, he'd walked over and dropped both the bowl and the cup, down by her feet.

They'd hit the ground with a clatter.

And she'd burst into tears.

Because after eleven days with all that time together, him deciding to cut her off at the knees like that, really had broken her heart. They'd built a sweet friendship, with a hint of something more building underneath . . . and it had been ruined. The worst part for her at the time though, was how her tears hadn't seemed to affect Daryl at all. Because after he'd dropped the dishes, he'd just turned and stalked off, throwing his bow over his shoulder as he went. But then a few minutes later, while she was still sitting there sniffling and staring into the flames, with that sick lump in her stomach and ache in her chest, she'd heard the snap of a branch.

She'd spun around just in time to see Daryl stepping back out of the trees.

For a moment all he'd done was stare down at her with this expression that she hadn't been able to read at all. Then finally his lips had pursed and his jaw had twitched, and he'd cleared his throat.

That's when he'd told her that he was going away.

What he'd said specifically, was that he was planning on doing a proper hunt deep in the woods to look for bigger game, so he wouldn't be back for probably three, four days at least, depending on how things went. Then he'd paused for a second before he'd added, in the softest tone a person could imagine, how he'd just figured that might be something she'd want to know. When he'd finished speaking, she'd blinked . . . and another one of those tears had started to roll down her cheek. Because that was the moment she'd known without a doubt, that he'd cared for her the same as she did for him. Still though, he'd decided to leave anyway, and she'd known even then that he hadn't been going off for a sudden 'big game' hunt that he'd never mentioned was necessary before. No, he'd been leaving because of her.

Their lines had started to blur too much.

And if he'd stayed then, something probably would've happened. And with Ed already getting suspicious of them from the night before, that something probably would have gotten her killed. Maybe Daryl too. So she'd let him go with a broken, "thank you for telling me." His expression had softened then, because even if he obviously had been trying to push her away, he hadn't been able to keep up that edge with her. And because of that . . . and even knowing the risk of doing it . . . she'd found herself reaching out to catch Daryl's fingers where they'd been dangling down by his thigh. She'd only wanted to touch him.

Because she'd never had the courage to before.

But when she did turn his hand over, and brushed her thumb along his palm . . . he'd winced. That's when she'd realized how much she was hurting him. So she'd quickly let go, and as her arm had fallen back to her lap, her eyes had fallen with it. Then she'd wished him luck, and told him to be careful. A moment later she'd heard the crunching of the leaves.

That's when she'd known he was gone.

It was another two beats before she'd looked up, and by then he'd already disappeared back into the forest. Three and a half days later he'd returned to camp chasing the trail of that buck. Right after that was when everything had gone to hell with Rick arriving, and Merle getting left behind.

Then the walkers came.

She and Daryl hadn't had a private talk since the morning he'd left on that hunt nobody had ever thanked him for going on.

That had been six days ago.

Four days later . . . the greatest day of her life . . . Ed was killed. And it was after she'd bashed in the brains of her bastard husband, that Carol had noticed how Daryl was starting to pay attention to her like he had before. At first it was like he'd bounce between those bouts of rage about what had happened to his brother, and then there would be this quiet brooding. It was during the quiet brooding when she'd find him staring at her like he used to when they would sit alone by the fire. So she was pretty sure that meant whatever they'd had before, was something that he was starting to want back. She did too.

If only she could figure out how exactly to get them there.

It certainly helped that their two dead, asshole, relatives wouldn't be around to torture them anymore. Well . . . Carol bit her lip . . . Merle might not actually be dead, but he'd gone missing apparently with one hand chopped off and in the middle of a city overrun with walkers. Which basically meant he was as good as dead, (or undead), because nobody could survive like that all alone. For Daryl's sake that wouldn't have been the end that she would have wanted for his brother, but regardless, she couldn't deny that Merle's absence from the group wasn't a loss for anyone but Daryl.

Though it did seem like even Daryl might have finally made his peace there.

Because tonight over dinner it had been obvious that he'd been in genuinely good spirits. Part of that was probably, partly, the wine . . . it had certainly loosened her up too . . . but still, she had just been so happy to see him happy for the first time since, well, probably before that day she'd tripped out there in front of everyone.

Everything since then had been one horrific mess after another.

At least until they'd arrived at this place that nobody besides Rick had really believed was anything but a pipe dream. And not only was Daryl looking much better in general just for being there, but it had been about halfway through their Dr. Jenner supplied dinner, when she'd noticed that something in Daryl . . . as in his interest in her . . . had definitely shifted again.

Because he'd been watching her almost constantly from across the table.

It had been at least a half dozen times where she'd actually caught him staring, but each time he'd immediately drop his eyes down to the table or look across the room. Still though, with that much scrutiny from that man, not to mention the wine in her system, by the time everyone had started to stand up and go off bed, she'd actually been feeling a little flushed. So she'd started tugging on her cross. That's when their eyes had met yet again.

It was the first time that night Daryl had really held her gaze.

And before he'd finally blinked and looked over her shoulder, she'd seen something dark in his eyes that had caused that flush to spread to other parts of her body. But she'd tried so hard to push off the tingles she was getting, telling herself that she was getting her hopes up WAY too high. The idea that she could just go straight from the psychotic dead husband, to not only getting Daryl back as her protector and confidante, but also getting him into her BED too(!), no, that was too much for her to process so quickly.

It had seemed like she'd just been setting herself up for heartbreak again.

But then later in the evening, after she'd collected her book from the game room and she'd been walking down the hall to go put the kids to bed, she'd run into Daryl again. That time he'd just been stepping out of his room. His hair had been tousled and damp, his chest had been bare, and the only thing that he'd been wearing, at least as far as she could see, had just been a towel over his shoulders, and one wrapped around his waist.

The second one had been riding low on his hips.

Basically he'd looked SO damn sexy, that her libido had gone nuts! Her pulse had been racing, and her cheeks had started to burn so hot that she'd felt like anyone looking at her would seen all those dirty thoughts in her head. And with the way Daryl's attention was so focused on her, suddenly she'd been embarrassed about the ugly, shapeless, pajamas she'd been wearing. Not like she'd ever in her life had she been a person who would have wandered the halls in a negligee . . . most especially with the kids there(!) . . . but still, she'd felt like such an old frump. She might have well as been wearing a housecoat and sweatpants for all the 'sex appeal' she'd been radiating. So then the blush in her cheeks had no longer been her raging hormones, it had been simple humiliation. All she'd been able to stammer out after that was a mumbled, "uh, um, 'scuse us," as she'd quickly shuffled the kids past Daryl and down the hall.

It was after she'd gotten Carl in with Rick, and had been about to continue on to go back to her own room, that she'd thrown a quick glance over her shoulder expecting to see Daryl disappearing into the game room or something. Instead, to her genuine shock, that's when she'd realized he still hadn't moved from the spot from where they'd just crossed paths. He was standing there in the middle of the corridor with his head tilted slightly to the side.

His eyes had been locked right onto hers.

That time neither of them looked away, though her heart was pounding so hard she'd probably looked like one of those cartoon characters where you could see the outline popping out on their chest. What ended up breaking that big moment building between them . . . was Sophia. Suddenly her daughter had whined, as loudly as children always do when they're whining in public, "Mommy, I thought we were going to bed?!" That had been accompanied by a poke of a little finger straight into her stomach.

Carol had literally jumped off the ground when that had happened.

Stage three of her humiliation though, hadn't phased Daryl in the slightest. Instead she'd just seen the corner of his quirk up in that way it used to when he was amused with something she'd done around the fire. Right after the lip quirk, he'd finally turned around and headed off down the corridor. Whether he was going to get a book or a snack or whatever, she still didn't know because that was the last time she'd seen him.

Or again, the last time she'd seen anyone but Sophia.

But obviously her brain just kept circling around that moment in the hallway, and she kept wondering if she was missing the opportunity she'd been waiting for. The one where they could not only fix everything, but have SEX too! And God did she miss sex, and good GOD would she love to have sex with Daryl because she knew that he would be sweet to her . . . her eyes started to sting . . . because he'd always been sweet to her. So in her mind all evening she kept thinking, yes, she should go knock on that door, but then right after she'd start to immediately second guess herself, worrying that maybe what she'd been feeling in the hallway was just the wine making her horny or something. Because it wasn't like Daryl could have helped what he looked like out there. He was just . . . hot. That's all it was. Daryl was hot. He had those cheekbones and those muscles and that way he moved with that swagger. All of those things had been driving her nuts since the day she'd first seen him walking through the camp. So that's why even though she was almost positive he was ready to talk now, she was just so afraid of embarrassing herself again by completely reading his behavior wrong. So maybe . . .

It was just then that Carol's thoughts stuttered to a halt as her eyes snapped towards the locked door across the room.

She'd thought she'd heard a knock, but the sound was so faint that it could have been her imagination. Still, for a moment she just stared at the inside of that painted wood, waiting to see if she heard the noise again.

Ten seconds . . . fifteen . . . still nothing.

And she was just about to let it go most likely as simply a creak in a big building, when she heard the same sound again. Though that time there was no mistaking it for her imagination.

Somebody was knocking on the door.

It was again very faint, but it was happening. And so her eyes shot up to the clock on the wall to see that it was now almost twenty after eleven. Kind of late for visitors in the old world, but in the new one time meant nothing when it came to those kinds of things. So she threw her blanket back and swung her legs around. When her bare feet hit the cold tile, her toes immediately curled up. And not in that good way she remembered her toes curling a long time ago.

Of course that was another unhelpful (Daryl related) thought.

One that she tried to push away as she hurried over to the door, and leaned up on her tiptoes to peak out through the little peephole expecting to see maybe Lori wanting her to take Carl again so she and Rick could have more private time. And in her mind she was so expecting to see Lori or Rick there with a half asleep Carl by their side, that her eyes popped when she saw who actually was out there.

Daryl!

Oh . . . she dropped down and spun back against the wall . . . crap! Somehow she'd conjured him up! For some reason it hadn't occurred to her that he might come knocking on her door, before she decided to go knocking on his.

Which, in retrospect . . . she started nervously biting her lip . . . seemed pretty stupid on her part.

And now she was feeling half elation that he was there, and half in a panic for not knowing WHY he was there! But then she realized that if HE was the one knocking on the door, then unlike her, he must have already figured out what he wanted to say! Which was more than she'd done.

Clearly.

So as she took in a deep breath of air, and let it out slowly, she decided that she'd just take her lead from him. And with that, and a quick brush of her hand down the front of her baggy top . . . God did she hate these damn pajamas . . . she finally reached out to unlock the door.

Then she took another breath, and slowly pulled it back, poking her head around the corner as she did so.

What she saw out there under the warm light hanging overhead, was Daryl dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing for the last three plus days. Though unlike the last time she'd seen him wearing them, this time his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose. His head was down. And he also didn't seem to have noticed yet that she'd opened the door part way. But that was because he was pacing back and forth a few feet in front of it.

Kind of like a panther.

"Hi."

Her greeting came out as a whisper, and even though he was the one who had knocked, it was obvious that she'd scared the hell out of him.

He literally jumped and spun around, his wide eyes shooting straight over to hers.

"Oh, uh, hey," he stammered out as his hand came up to his mouth . . . he started biting his thumbnail, "I thought you might of been sleeping."

She bit her lip.

"No," she murmured back, now with a faint crinkle of her eyes as she slipped out the door and took a step out into the corridor so they wouldn't wake Sophia, "no, I was just reading."

"Oh," he nodded slowly, "right, you got that book." His eyebrow quirked up.

"Uh, is it good?"

Feeling a fresh swirl of butterflies for him then, just for trying to pretend he cared about her book when she knew books were not his thing, she gave him a soft smile.

"I don't know if it's any good," she answered with an honest shrug, "I couldn't focus very well." Then she added more in a whisper, "I had stuff on my mind."

That time she saw Daryl's eyes widen with surprise . . . and maybe just a little bit of hope.

"Yeah?" He took a step closer, "what kind of stuff?"

And that's when she started to panic again. Because she didn't want to have to take charge of the conversation here! He was the one who had knocked, so he had to have decided on how he wanted this to go!

Which was why HE should go first!

And for that reason, rather than being honest again, she just shook her head.

"Nothing in particular really," she lied with a twist of her hands, "just a busy day I guess."

The second those words left her mouth, she hated herself for them. Because that time she could see how Daryl's face fell completely. Of course he tried to hide it by looking away, but she still caught that wince of disappointment. And then again it was there in his tone when he murmured, "yeah right, it's been a busy day."

That's when she remembered how shy he'd been at those first breakfasts. Daryl might have been handsome, but he was not . . . she bit her lip . . . smooth. Or confident. It was that bluster he used to cover over the lack of confidence in himself, because he really was just a sweet, quiet, guy under there. And really, thinking about it, she realized it had probably taken all of his courage just to come over and knock on the door. And here she was basically punishing him for doing exactly what she'd WANTED him to do . . . just talk to her again!

So before the awkward silence stretched out any longer, she cleared her throat. And when his eyes darted back up to hers, she steered her own courage.

"Did you come over for something in particular?" she whispered, hoping that would be enough to help him along. Unfortunately though, it seemed like the awkward silence had already beat down Daryl's courage. Because instead of speaking his mind then, his gaze dropped down to the shiny floor.

"Uh, well," his jaw twitched, "I was um, uh . . ."

And then his voice faded off with a heavy sigh.

"Naw," he murmured, still looking down by their feet, "it was stupid, I'll uh," he brought his hand up in a halfhearted wave over her shoulder, "I'll just let you get back to bed."

Then he turned . . . and started down the hall.

And for a second she just stood there, feeling her nails digging into her palms, and her eyes starting to fill with hot tears, as she watched him walk away.

Again.

And this time it was her fault. Because he'd tried . . . but she'd let him flounder, because she hadn't wanted to go first. Of course she STILL didn't want to go first, because she was terrified of making a fool of herself if they weren't on the same page yet. But . . . she winced . . . one of them had to start this conversation.

Otherwise they were just wasting more time they didn't have.

So she closed her eyes, and breathed out the one word she so desperately needed for him to hear.

"Wait."

A/N 2: Kind of a long note, but if you're interested, it explains how I built this in my mind as canon for them.

So I got the idea initially for this from the stable scene in season two where Carol says to Daryl, "I can't lose you too," because what she said didn't make any sense :) The logical statement from her would have been more like, "I'd feel terrible if something happened to you too." That's the basic, human, guilt reaction, "I can't have your death on my conscience." But what Carol said was VERY different from that. Her phrasing was much more intimate and clearly implied an existing emotional attachment already in place between them, that had NO obvious grounds in their (to date at that time) onscreen canon interactions. Their only notable screen time they'd had together before the saga of Sophia's disappearance, was back when she'd bashed in her husband's brains. So I started mentally tracking back to a likely place where real intimacy and bonding could have happened with them, and that would've been starting with those days before Rick arrived in the camp. I've said over in Cedar Forest that those early morning breakfasts would have been the logical place for them to bond initially. But then rather than my total AU story (which I tried to be very conscious of not emulating too much in events of their back story HERE :)), we kind of stick with onscreen canon, but with the twist on why Daryl had really left the camp was to try and protect her because they had started to get too close and Ed was getting suspicious. Then the CDC worked perfectly as the place for them to get back together. Ed's dead. Daryl's finally making peace with Merle's 'loss' and he'd started to become more the Daryl that we know he always was underneath. Again, I've said in my other stories, I feel like he was always that Daryl in canon too, it was just that we met him on screen, on the worst day of his life so he was going to be kind of a dick for those few days :) The CDC was where he'd seemed to decide to let that anger about Merle go, and it was also (as I can show in some screen caps I pulled for TS-19 :)) where he starts to notably hover around Carol. Not just on the elevator, but throughout the episode. I have more on that, but I'll save it for my chapter two notes :)

To the particulars here though, for their big 'bonding moment' to make it very different from CF, I figured her catching a spark on her sweater would have been very plausible, and something that would have instantly broken through what would have likely been his initial reticence and awkwardness around her. Because we know if Carol was 'on fire' Daryl would have jumped right in there to help her :)

Carol's CDC pajamas were the LEAST sexy pajamas ever created, so it was impossible for that not to be an element here for her thought process. They might have been clean and comfortable, which is great for being clean, and sleeping, but if you're looking at a half naked Daryl wondering if maybe he wants to have sex with you, I feel like no matter how great your body is, baggy, shapeless, flannel is going to DEcrease your confidence in this area! Ha, ha!

And also, it wasn't until I was writing the opening with Carol's narrative that I consciously processed that parallel between Rick leaving Merle, and then Rick leaving Sophia, so he was directly responsible for both Carol and Daryl losing the only family they had left. Obviously it wasn't 'malicious' with either of them, but still thinking about it, it is kind of unsettling. Especially when it all comes full circle in season four, where Rick goes off with Carol . . . and leaves HER! So Daryl loses both of the people that he loves, because Rick fucking dumps them somewhere! It also ties in that thread of Lori telling Carol that she needs to stop blaming Rick, when Daryl blamed Rick too. I like Rick, a lot, he's my favorite after our Dynamic Duo, but that's really pretty messed up when you lay it all out. And in retrospect it again makes me wish there had been more accountably there for him, and some of those choices he made. I know all the deaths weigh on him and he tries to do what's best for everyone, but outside of losing Lori, he hasn't suffered personally in the same way that most everyone else has. And a lot of them suffered for HIS choices. But he's got his health, both of his kids, and a pretty new, ass kicking, wife. It just sort of reminds me in season 2 when Andrea was telling off Lori for not really 'getting it' because she still had all the things everyone else had lost. And now I'm thinking about doing something to make Rick suffer over in CF, but, I have now clearly digressed from my initial comments :)

Back on point, Carol had no confidence in those early days either. So the two of them might have fallen into an easy 'platonic' relationship just for being kindred souls, but seeing them both trying to 'fix' a broken relationship, while possibly moving it forward to something physical, seemed like it would be much harder for them. Both of them would be afraid of putting themselves out there and reading things the wrong way. So I wanted to have Daryl have just enough of a need to want to fix things and be with her, to knock on the door, but I knew there was NO way, he was going to have any kind of 'speech' ready :) That's why he was like, 'okay, I'm here and you're awake . . . now you say something.' Ha, ha! So it falls to poor emotionally damaged Carol, to cowgirl up here. Next time we'll see how that 'conversation' goes. And this is just a two parter, and the rest of the story is already drafted. I just need to clean it up, so I'm hopeful I can get it wrapped by early-mid next week, so it can just be done :) And I've been pulling this one together for a year now folks, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Can we make them a canon back story based on that one line from Carol in the stables?

Thanks all :)