AN: Written for the June 2015 smutfest challenge at Nine Lives.

STAGES OF GRIEF

When Carol imagines being with Daryl for the first time, everything's a little bit soft, a little blurred at the edges. He kisses her with an indulgent confidence and makes love to every inch of her body with his hands and his mouth. His tongue flicks against her as his fingers slide inside and he looks up at her from between her legs with eyes full of mischief and lust When she's finally ready, still quivering from the heights he's taken her to, he slides in effortlessly. The stretch is perfectand he kisses away her moans, thrusting with an addictive friction until they're both gasping against the other's lips. When she comes (again), he's right behind her, shuddering against her body until he has the strength to look at her with nothing but love and awe.

When Daryl imagines fucking Carol, it's all sharp edges and frenzied moves. She's got him on his back, riding his cock like she's made for it. Her panties are a scrap of red lace (she's always looked best in red) and she's just pushed them to the side in her desire. She's so tight and wet and the fit is unlike anything he's ever had before. She looks down at him with that flirty smirk, teasing her own nipples with fingers wet from his mouth before the look turns truly wicked. Then she slides a hand down her stomach and touches herself, and that's where everything gets fuzzy, Daryl losing himself completely and coming so hard he probably blacks out.

The reality bears no resemblance to either daydream.

They're in the guard tower, of all places, where neither of them had imagined it. Yet somehow, Carol makes just the right joke and Daryl tilts his head just the right way. They bump shoulders at the perfect angle and held eye contact for just the right length of time. Everything connects in just the right way to bring their mouths together in a decidedly sloppy first kiss.

His tongue feels clumsy and her fluttering hands tickle his ribs, his eyes are open in shock and hers are clenched too tightly closed. A rhythm never settles. When he backs her against the wall and reaches for his belt, Daryl is gripped with the thought that if he stops they'll have to talk about this and that's a lot more terrifying than continuing. Carol's writhing against him and making little gasping sounds and he's getting too hard to care if the kissing is awkward.

She tries to help him with his belt but even his fumbling hands are more deft than hers and Carol works the zipper on her cargo pants instead. She's barely got them down the tops of her thighs when he clumsily wedges a hand between them. His tongue is all but shoved down her throat and she's not quite sure what he's trying to do between her legs but the press of his body against hers is everything she's dreamed about for months.

"You ready?" His breath is hot against her mouth and her nod is instinctual as she gasps against his throat.

The sound goes right to his dick, and Daryl grunts before he's pulling back just enough to turn her around. He can't focus on anything but sinking into her and she spreads her legs as far as her barely-down pants will allow. He squeezes her hip with his hand before reaching shamelessly between her legs and groaning at how wet and hot she is.

His stroking is rudimentary, a few passes that come tantalizingly close to where Carol wants his fingers but too quickly he's pulled them away. He lines up with a grunt and when he presses into her, she cries out at the fullness. The stretch is so good, and while she wishes she could see his eyes, she can feel his breath by her ear and every sound he makes sends a jolt of yesright through her.

Neither of them can quite believe it's happening.

The guard tower is quiet, save for the groans and sighs they're both trying to keep in and the smack of their skin at every thrust. Carol presses back against him, trying to encourage him deeper and Daryl's fingers tighten on her hips. Just as she gasps, as she feels him press against just the right spot inside of her, just as she can feel the first coils of something in her belly,his thrusts lose any semblance of rhythm and he's grunting loudly in her ear with his release.

After a few final thrusts, Daryl stills, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. He feels sated yet anxious, the familiar post-coital itch to get out crawls at his skin and he can feel panic setting in. This is Carol he has pressed against the wall, this is Carol his softening dick is still inside of.

He's fucked Carol against the wall of the guard tower.

"Fuck," he curses softly, pulling out and stepping back from her with enough haste that he's nearly falling from the pants around his knees. He repeats the oath, tugging his pants back up and when Carol turns around, he's looking anywhere but at her. Following his lead, she pulls her cargoes back up her thighs, staring down at the ground and completely at a loss for what to say.

The silence is heavy, goes past awkward and strained into uncomfortable and frightening. Carol's hips ache a bit and Daryl's breathing is getting more panicked by the minute. When they finally look at each other, he looks so entirely stricken that she can't help the tears that start to well in her eyes.

"Fuck."

Daryl can't deal with it, can't handle her tears, can't handle any of it and he snatches his crossbow and all but throws himself down the ladder, retreating across the courtyard and inside.

Carol stares blankly at where he'd once stood before realizing he's completely abandoned his watch at least an hour before Tyreese is scheduled to relieve him. She wipes the tears from her eyes and makes her way to the railing, leaning against it and scanning the fences. He's not going to come back up here, she knows it, so she'll have to stay on watch until the change in shifts.

Someone has to.

Stage One: Denial

Less than twelve hours later, Daryl leaves with Michonne.

Carol hasn't seen hide-nor-hair of him since he fled the guard tower, and while she knew he'd need time before he could face her, she didn't expect that time to be spent outside the fences. But it's okay, it really is. A repeated mantra in her head as she goes about her day. He'll be back in a couple of days, more than enough time to sort through the confusion their hasty coupling must have left him with.

He's Daryl, he needs the forest and fresh air to process anything major. Carol knows this, and she lets it comfort her mixed up heart.

It had been… It hadn't been terrible. She's certainly had worse sex in her life. It's not like she'd really expected Daryl to be a phenomenal lover… had she?

Frowning down at the dishes she's washing, Carol wonders if maybe she had. Every daydream she'dindulged, each time she touched herself to thoughts of him, she'd imagined having sex with Daryl to be so much… more than what happened. He was such an observant man, surely it wasn't unrealistic to have expected that to translate into bed? And he is always so focused on the needs of others, the idea that he'd take his own release without even trying for hers first had never crossed her mind.

It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed herself. He'd fucked her against the wall of the guard tower and Carol had been nothing but a willing participant, had welcomed every hard thrust of his hips and the memory of his ragged breathing right there by her ear was enough to make her feel flushed all over.

Maybe she's just read one too many of those romance novels Maggie brought back from the library run a few weeks ago?

She takes a breath and stares down at the bowl she's been holding in the lukewarm dishwater. Getting lost in her own head isn't going to help with anything, and she knows it. She'll just give him the few days he needs, and when he comes back he'll seek her out. They'll talk, they'll figure it out…

They have to.

"I just don't see why it has to be that long!"

Carol doesn't know what's got Carl worked up enough to shout, but she can hear the soothing tones of Hershel answering him patiently. She smiles at the bowl in her hands, pulling it from the water finally and reaching for a towel.

Whatever Hershel said has not appeased Carl, and the angry scrape of his chair as he pushes back from the table is unmistakable. He's becoming such a teenager, she can't help but think fondly as he continues to shout at Hershel.

"Michonne doesn't care about us! Not when she takes off after the governor for three weeks!"

The bowl she's drying slips from her hands and Carol barely hears the crash as it shatters on the prison floor.

Three Weeks.

Stage Two: Anger

"Stupid son of a-" Daryl angrily kicks the walker off of his legs, glaring at Michonne when she offers him a hand getting up from the ground. She's smirking at him, amused that he'd gotten knocked over by the remains of someone's tiny grandmother. Daryl ignores the way his knees protest as he forces himself into a crouch, unassisted.

"Gotta watch out for the geriatric ones," she quips, ignoring his scowl as he stands up straight. "They'll get you every time."

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl grouses, wiping his knife down. "They're all the same when they're dead, doesn't fucking matter."

Michonne just laughs at him, and he momentarily considers ditching her and taking off on his own. Nothing but him and the forest and the sounds of nature... and the dead people trying to kill him. As pissed off as he is, he's not so much of a jackass to leave her out here without backup, even if she hardly needs it. Besides, he sought her out and invited himself on this little excursion, chasing the flimsiest excuse for a lead yet. He hadn't gone with her the last two times she'd headed out, but his desperation to get away from what had happened was stronger than the need to stay back and play his part as a member of the council.

The council that also included Carol.

Carol, who he'd manhandled and used and fucked like one of his brother's floozies.

Carol, who deserves so much better than a filthy redneck who can't keep it in his pants and flees at the thought of talking about anything.

Carol who will probably never speak to him again.

That leaves a painful ache in his chest that Daryl has no interest in dissecting, so he kicks an errant pinecone on the forest floor and stalks off knowing Michonne will follow.

She lets him have his silence for two hours, before daring to speak again. "Ty said you weren't at your post when he went to relieve you last night,"

Her tone is so fucking conversational that Daryl wants to scream. Instead he just grunts, hoping that non-verbal answers will get him to the other side of this conversation and maybe he'll be gifted with another two hours of quiet.

"Said he found Carol there instead. Didn't even have her rifle." He doesn't acknowledge that at all, but Michonne keeps talking. "She looked upset, like someone had said something pretty hurtful to her."

He can't see her face, but the pointed look is burning a hole in his back and he snaps out a reply. "Didn't say nothing, and Ty's a damn gossipy hen."

Michonne laughs, hearty and bright and the exact opposite of everything Daryl feels but he at least has the patience left to be thankful she doesn't press the issue any further. And if the ache in his chest clenches painfully at the thought of Carol's tears, it was the least he deserved for what he's done to her.

What he's done to them.

Stage Three: Bargaining

"I had sex with Daryl."

Beth freezes in the middle of changing Judith's diaper, staring at Carol with comically huge eyes. "Wh-what?"

"I had sex with Daryl," she repeats, nodding to feign confidence in her words. She hadn't intended to blurt it out, and knows that Beth Greene is probably not the right person to be telling this to, but it's been nine days and every time she opens her mouth she's worried it's about to come out.

"Oh. Oh, okay. Um," Beth blinks at her twice before Judith's annoyed noises remind her she was in the middle of something. "That's... " She looks back down at the baby, resuming her task and Carol can see the tips of her ears turning pink. "Congrats. I'm really happy for you guys! I mean, actually happy, not sarcastic or anything I just didn't expect you to… We all know you two love each other, and it's about time you…" She secures the diaper, looking back up at Carol with bewilderment all over her face. "Why are you telling me, exactly?"

"In the guard tower, right before he left," Carol ignores her question, opting instead to unfold the t-shirt of Carl's she'd just folded and start the whole process again. "We were talking and then… we were kissing and then..."

"And then you had sex," Beth cuts her off a little desperately, bringing Judith close to her chest as if shielding her ears.

"Yes. But…" she sighs, focusing on the laundry in her hands. "We didn't… I wasn't… Maybe if I had… It wasn't very good!" She finally says it out loud, looking helplessly at the teenager who has the misfortune of being the only other person in the small laundry room.

Beth's eyes keep going to the door, and she holds Judith a little tighter. "Oh. Well, that's… I'm sure..." she shakes her head, voice pitching a little higher. "Do you want me to go get Maggie?"

Maggie? Why would she want Maggie? Carol blinks at her, dumbfounded before the pieces click into place. She's so desperate for someone to talk to about this that she's just unloaded all her confusion onto a teenage girl who's probably a virgin and definitely has no interest in discussing the sex life of a middle aged woman old enough to be her mother.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to just…" she clears her throat, trying to shake off the uncomfortable atmosphere she's created. "Forget I ever mentioned it."

"No, it's… You love him?"

"Yes." It slips out without thought, as though the answer is so much a part of her soul that she can't even dodge it and Beth smiles at her, wide and beautiful.

"And we all know he loves you, so it'll work out. I know it will."

Carol wishes she were young enough to share that optimism.

Stage Four: Depression

Michonne hasn't said a word since it became clear three days ago that her lead is useless. They're headed back towards the prison in an obnoxious yellow jeep he'd hotwired. Daryl's anger had given way to a crushing sadness somewhere before they ran out of gas the first time.

Nothing's going to be the same, he knows. Carol won't be at the gates to welcome him home, she won't squeeze his arm in relief that he's okay. Any chance he had of redeeming the… incident had been wiped away when he ran off with Michonne like a coward.

He knows he should have said goodbye, knows he should have at least tried to seek out eye contact or a nod or something before he left. Something safe and non verbal and nicely in public where there was no chance of anything happening or being discussed or… Daryl shakes the thoughts away, casting a glance beside him at Michonne. She's staring out at the road with a neutral expression, but there's enough stillness in every inch of her body to tell him she's tense.

They stop for the night at a small cottage, a ways off the main road. It's nothing impressive, just one room and an outhouse, but it's hidden enough and has a small fence around the patch of land. There's a lone walker, and they clear things effortlessly before hiding the horribly bright jeep and settling in.

He and Michonne have spent enough time out together to have a system. She always takes first watch while he grabs a few hours of sleep and he hunts breakfast, sticking close while she gets her rest. There's an effortlessness to things, a routine that Daryl appreciates and the efficiency of not having to bicker over who will take watch when is welcome.

"Should make it back to the prison tomorrow," Michonne's comment is offhand, as though she isn't breaking a days long silence. "If we can find enough gas to stay in the jeep."

"Should, yeah." He doesn't tell her how much he'd rather take the extra time to go back on foot, how badly he doesn't want to face the decaying remains of his friendship with Carol. Instead he just lays himself out on a dilapidated couch and closes his eyes, trying to sleep.

"Or we could head a little east, check out that attraction spot we saw the sign for."

He snorts, adjusting the cushion behind his head. "Think we'll find ammo and canned goods at a damn tourist trap?"

"Never know what we might find."

It would keep them from the prison at least another day, and even though he knows it makes him a coward, Daryl nods. "'Alright."

"Those places should have activity books and stuff for the kids, at least," Michonne keeps selling the detour, as though he hasn't agreed. "Maybe some educational pamphlets on the state of Georgia." She pauses a beat, just long enough to tell him the next remark isn't as casual as it sounds. "Carol would like that."

Daryl doesn't take her bait, just presses his eyes closed again and tries not to wonder how many coloring books it would take to erase what happened in the guard tower.

More than will fit in the shitty yellow jeep.

Stage Five: Acceptance

Carol's in the guard tower by herself when Daryl and Michonne return. It's day nineteen, and she watches silently as they're let in the gates and Carl rushes up to greet them. They're still standing around the vehicle talking when Glenn comes up the ladder, telling her that he's come to finish her shift so she can go welcome Daryl home.

It makes her chest ache that she doesn't really want to go face him, but Glenn's nodding at her in such an encouraging way that she can't bear the thought of letting him down. It's expected that she'll welcome Daryl home, normal that she'll want to see him as soon as possible.

We all know he loves you.

Beth's words echo in her head as Carol makes her way across the yard. It's early afternoon and the prison is bustling with activity, the sounds of family and community are everywhere. It's always a bit of an attraction when Michonne and Daryl return, and while it's not enough to classify a crowd, there's definitely a few people gathered around them.

Rick has joined the group, leaning on his rake and smiling at Carl and Michonne. Hershel's there too, but Carol loses track of anyone else when Daryl looks her way.

Their eyes meet and her step nearly falters at how much she can see in his face. He's tired and dirty and hungry, like any time he comes back from an extended run, but there's an apology in his eyes she knows is just for her. He knows he shouldn't have run away, he knows they need to talk, he knows everything has changed.

Carol comes to a stop at the group, nodding her hello at Michonne before resting her hand on Daryl's arm. She can feel his relief at the familiar gesture, the subtle relaxation of his posture.

For the first time since he'd fled the guard tower, Carol thinks that maybe the change isn't a bad thing.

The second time is nothing like the first.

The council meeting runs late, catching Daryl up on everything he'd missed and when they head back to the cell block most people are already asleep. Carol turns towards her cell, but he catches her hand with a brush of his own, the slightest incline of his head indicating she should come to his instead.

He hasn't planned it, but she's beside him in the council room, fondly recounting an incident with Rick and an ill-placed rake and all he can think about is the way it tasted to kiss her. She's forgiven him without a word and Daryl knows he can just pretend it never happened and go back to what they were.

It both scares and motivates him that he doesn't want to.

She follows him, and when they're inside with the curtain drawn, Daryl stands closer to her than he used to. His fingers twitch at his sides and Carol has to smile, taking his hands in hers and squeezing in reassurance.

"Sorry," his voice is barely above a whisper, but he's meeting her eyes and holding her hands. "'Bout before… and for leaving."

"I know," she replies, because she does. She knows him so well, and maybe they'd both forgotten it in a moment of adrenaline and hormones but here in his cell, everything clicks back into place.

This time he lowers his head to hers, pausing before their lips can meet and letting Carol close the distance for a kiss. It's slow and timid, a gentle brush of their mouths and tinted with hesitance like a first kiss should be.

She releases his hands to run hers up his chest and step closer to his body and Daryl rests his palms on her hips. She's slim but solid and even as the kiss remains chaste, he feels a stirring of need. A need to wipe away the memory of the guard tower, a need to push past his awkward retreat… A need to make love to her, like she deserves.

Their mouths part and the dazed look on his face makes her grin.

"Well, that was better." Carol cups his face with her palm, loving the way he leans into the touch ever so slightly. "Let's improve on the rest, too."

This kiss isn't chaste.

Her mouth is open under his and he groans against her before sliding his tongue against hers. The hands on her hips tighten, pulling her against him and revelling in her softness. He's not embarrassed by his rapidly growing erection, knows she can feel it against her hip and when Carol slides a hand down his chest to boldly stroke him through his pants he knows there's no place here for doubt.

She wants him. He wants her.

This time he'll get it right, if he has to call on every scrap of knowledge he's picked up from one night stands and porn and overheard conversations.

They take their time, removing clothing at a snail's pace and when they're finally on his bunk, finally naked, Carol's daydreams of his tongue bringing her to the edge before anything else have long given way to impatience. She wants him inside of her again, wants to see his face this time and feel him above her, not behind. She's wet and wanting and he's sliding his fingers teasingly against her when she pushes up on her elbows and tugs gently on his hair.

"Daryl." His thumb finally brushes her clit and he murmurs something against her breast. "Daryl," she repeats it, tugging again to get him to look in her eyes. "I'm ready."

He studies her for a long moment, trying to gauge the honesty of her desperation. He's still rubbing slowly, dipping just the tips of his fingers inside her and the way she bucks her hips towards him is intoxicating. He's never made a woman needy, never had one panting for his touch, and as much as he longs to sink into her, Daryl never wants this feeling to end. Without warning, he slides two fingers inside and curls them, hoping his fuzzy memory of an article he once read in a battered playboy about the female g-spot is accurate.

Carol tenses, gasping against his shoulder and he repeats the motion with a grin. She tightens a bit against his hand and it's the hottest fucking thing he's ever felt. He can't help the way he's grinding himself against her hip and after a few more ragged gasps, she grabs his wrist to still him.

"Daryl." Her voice is husky, full of desire and a warning that's undone by the way she's rocking herself against his fingers even as she holds them still.

He leans down, taking her mouth in a kiss that's slower and lazier than any he's ever had. He's never felt this playful, never wanted to lose himself in a lover for as long as possible and as she gropes restlessly at his hips to try and pull him on top, Daryl knows that he'll have other chances to make her fall apart. Their false start in the guard tower is behind them and all he can see ahead is a future filled with nights like this.

Arranging their bodies isn't graceful, and it takes a little fumbling before he gets lined up properly, but this time when he pushes inside of her, Carol watches his face. She sees the way his eyes widen just a bit, the way his arms tremble as he sinks in.

Sees the way he smiles just before he kisses her.

Daryl slides his hand between them, murmuring a promise against her lips that he'll make it good for her too, this time. She has to help him find the right pressure, but soon he's circling her just right as he thrusts and Carol's breathy moans start gaining volume she tries to control.

He kisses her, long and deep to smother the noises, and that's what pushes her over the edge. By the time she comes down from her orgasm, Daryl's abandoned her clit and has both hands planted on the bunk beside her head. He's still thrusting, but it's slow and irregular and it's obvious in every muscle that he's trying to hold back until he's certain she's done.

A surge of fondness nearly overwhelms her at the sight of him being so focused on her needs. It's the opposite of everything that happened the first time and while she's already entertaining fantasies of returning to get it right in the guard tower, to have him take her in that position that had penetrated so deep, she wants to watch him come undone inside of her.

Carol brings her legs up around his hips and presses in with her heels to encourage him. He groans against her lips and she swears there's relief in it, making her smile even as he increases his pace and sends sparks of friction through her sensitive nerves.

The bunk squeaks under the force of it and before her legs can even start to cramp at the awkward position he's crying out with his own release and all but collapsing on top of her.

They're both sweaty and sated when he pulls out and rolls off of her, and it's a bit of an ordeal to get them both arranged on the narrow bunk in any position that resembles comfortable, and there's a moment of near-awkwardness when she reaches for a clean cloth to wipe between her legs. But then Daryl's face is tucked in the crook of her neck and Carol's hand strokes his hair and she feels his breathing level out and relax.

Maybe it will never be the amazing sex they'd fantasized about but it was good and they both feel happy and that's more than enough. In this world or any other.

AN2: I think I'm hilarious, in case anyone was wondering.