Originally posted on my blog shimmershae as "Marry me" and intended to be part of my Something to Talk About collection. What can I say except the plot bunnies just attacked and interest in my continuing this story way exceeded my expectations? So here we are. As if I needed another story.

Title taken from here.

Expect some adult language and situations throughout the story and some past Carol/Other. This story should have a little bit of everything before we reach the end. As such, I'm going to preemptively give the story the M-rating.

That's it. For now. I hope you enjoy the story.

Love Unknown

xx1xx

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"Marry me."

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Carol nearly dropped the plate in her hands. "What…what did you just say?"

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Picking nervously at his thumb nail, Daryl refused to meet her eyes, instead studying the double knotted laces of his work worn boots, the checkered pattern of her kitchen floor, anywhere else really than at her. "You heard what I said," he muttered.

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"I heard you," she confirmed after a moment, her mind still reeling and her equilibrium dangerously off-balance. Her best friend had just proposed to her—her sweet, socially challenged, romantically stunted best friend, and she just couldn't wrap her brain around what had just happened. So, she finished drying the plate she was holding and put it away in the cupboard with the rest of their Sunday dinner dishes, taking the time to carefully mull over her words. But it seemed there wasn't a handbook for this sort of situation filed away in her subconscious. "I heard you. It's just…why?"

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Cheeks pink and voice soft and gravel-laced, Daryl mustered up a fumbling explanation. "Heard you talkin' with 'Chonne. She said…"

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Comprehension dawned on her, and her heart did a little twisting somersault behind her ribs. "My chances of winning sole custody of Sophia would be better if I could provide her with a loving, two-parent home. You were eavesdropping."

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"Didn't mean to," he admitted shyly. "Ain't the point, though. Point is, that asshole don't deserve that little girl." His voice gained strength with the conviction of his belief in what he was saying, and that confidence had him standing tall and brave across from her, his blue eyes glittering and intense. "Just wants her for 'ppearances. Same reason he went out and got himself a new wife 'fore the ink done dried on your divorce papers."

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Carol couldn't deny the truth in what he was saying; she didn't even bother. Hugging her arms tight around herself, she did, however, remind him of another part of the conversation he hadn't yet mentioned. "If you heard us talking, you know my feelings about the situation."

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His bravado deflated somewhat, and his thumb gravitated to his mouth. "Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Think it's bullshit, too. Don't mean the judge will, though."

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He wasn't wrong. God knows the King County court of law had never treated him or his kin favorably and the odds certainly weren't in her favor. She didn't need Michonne to tell her that. But a part of her, that long dormant, recently reawakened independent streak, bristled fiercely at the notion that, one way or another, she needed a man to validate that she was qualified to raise her own child. Lost in her own head, she didn't immediately respond to him, and she didn't realize how badly he'd misread her silence until his shoulders slumped completely and he started talking himself down.

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"Ain't exactly husband material," he mumbled. "Still ain't figured out what you seen in me all those years ago. Weren't nothin' but a skinny kid that got picked on for bein' poor as dirt and a Dixon to boot. Still ain't much of nothin'."

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Her throat grew tight because here he was, one the best people she'd ever known, and he still had no idea of his own value as a person. "Don't say that," she all but begged. "Don't. You're good as gold, and anybody'd be lucky to have you."

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He grunted and ducked his head, his dark blond bangs falling across his furrowed forehead. "Just not you."

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"Daryl, we don't even love each other like that." Even as she said it, a tiny part of Carol protested, calling her out on the lie because once upon a time fifteen-year-old her used to dream about such a moment, fantasized herself Mrs. Daryl Dixon. But he was who he was, always would be, and she didn't want to change him so she took what she could get: his unwavering friendship. Twenty-five-year-old her didn't feel all that different. The relationship they'd built over the years, from childhood to young adulthood, was precious to her. Could she really jeopardize it over something so selfish as her desire to keep her baby girl out of her ex-husband's clutches? She swallowed back her building tears as she watched him bend to scoop up Sophia's kitten and cradle it against his broad chest with tender hands.

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Absently, Daryl scratched between the little calico's ears and it purred loudly and started kneading at his arm with tiny sharp claws, content in its comfortable perch while he considered her words. "Maybe not," he finally said. "Don't mean I can't keep you and 'Phia safe. Maybe even make you happy."

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"What about you?" she gently reasoned.

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He merely shrugged and quirked a self-deprecating smile at her. "Ain't so important."

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"Don't," she scolded with a shake of her head, lifting her hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. She huffed when a stubborn red curl escaped anyway and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, fretting, "I can't believe we're really having this conversation."

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"It really that crazy?" he challenged. "Idea of you and me? Know we could make this work. Get that piece of shit off your back and keep 'Phia where she belongs. With you."

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"You know it won't ever be that simple," Carol sighed. "This is Ed we're talking about."

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"Ain't nothin' been easy in my life 'cept you."

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"Thanks," she muttered wryly. "I think."

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"Know what I mean," he groused, tickling his blunt, oil stained nails beneath the kitten's chin when it nuzzled deeper into his careful embrace. He searched her face for several seconds before letting out a long exhalation of his own. "Just forget I said anything. Fool idea in the first place."

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"Daryl." She reached out for him and found her hands full of a dismayed feline for her troubles, its plaintive mewls just as pitiful sounding as her own protests as she followed him through her kitchen and into the living room where Sophia's movie still played in a loop on the television screen, her preschooler long since passed out beneath the coffee table. "I don't…it's just…there has to be another way."

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He paused in the act of shrugging on his leather jacket, stopping in front of her door. "'Sides writin' Dixon at the end of your name, you mean?"

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"That's not…stop putting words in my mouth." She frowned. "You're not being fair here, blindsiding me with something like this. This…this is crazy."

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"Yeah. Yeah," Daryl nodded to himself, his pride clearly wounded. "Reckon it is." Pulling his jacket snug over his shoulders, he zipped it up and reached for the door. The lines of hurt etched into his handsome face only deepened when he cast one last glance at the little girl curled up all tight and sweet with her favorite blanket. "Tell her I'll do my best to make it to her game this week. Can't make no promises, but I'll try."

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"Daryl," Carol tried, one last time, but she knew it was no use because he was already on his way down her porch steps into the dark night.

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"Tell 'er I said good luck."

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I'm working on the second chapter right now (along with Stars and the Wonder, lol).

Feedback is love and so inspiring. Honestly, I probably would have just left this a ficlet if I hadn't had such an positive response to the idea of continuing it, so it absolutely makes a difference and you have no idea how much I appreciate your words.

Thanks so much for reading!