Bittersweet

Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said
Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead, yeah

Nothing compares, no worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

-Adele, "Someone Like You"

"Do it fast." Carol said, closing her eyes. She could feel Daryl's hot breath on her neck as he stood behind her, the rough texture of his big hand as it held her still with a firm grip on her arm, fingers almost touching as they circled it, just above her elbow.

She had hoped it wouldn't be him that the reconstituted Council chose to carry out its sentence for her crime, but she knew he'd feel honor bound to volunteer, to make it as painless as possible…quick, clean, done so she wouldn't turn.

She'd had a lot of time, alone in her cell in the last three days to think over her decision making process, to wonder if she could've done things any differently, made some other decision knowing what she'd known at the time. She'd come to the conclusion that she'd acted to protect them, the kids; that it had been all her own doing, teaching them the skills, the need to act without hesitation to remove a threat… What she hadn't understood just how damaged they already were before she'd ever met them…what they'd already seen and done that fell so far outside her realm of experience that she'd failed to comprehend what even young children were capable of when they were afraid.

It had been her fault. So now she was doing the only thing she could to make up for it. She was showing them the dignity of sacrificing oneself for others, hoping they could still be reached, still made to understand the difference.

Carol closed her eyes, hoping that when she next opened them she'd see her Sophia.

Daryl had taken her deep into the Tombs to perform his task, to Solitary, the double irony not lost on her. This place of execution was where he'd once found and saved her, but it was also where the killings had occurred.

She felt the sharp pain of regret that she'd never overcome her fear of rejection to push beyond the gentle push and pull of flirtations they shared; push beyond the easy friendship into which their interactions had settled. At times she thought he might push back from his side, but whatever demons holding him back refused to release their grip on him and she had settled for knowing she had his trust, that theirs was a special bond that went beyond words.

The breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding whooshed out of her in a rush when instead of the blade to her throat she expected, warm dry lips pressed to her nape, and then a hot wet tongue tasted her there.

"Daryl?" she gasped and his hand came over her mouth.

"Shh." He whispered, his mouth moving to her ear, the hand at her elbow slipping to her waist and then around to her belly, his fingers spreading wide, jerking her back to his body, hard up firm against his narrow hips, his rigid cock digging into her ass.

"You want this?" he growled, giving her the chance to refuse him. He pulled his hand from her mouth and waited.

Her last minutes on earth making love to Daryl Dixon? What sane person would refuse?

"Yes." Carol moaned, nodding. She supposed for him this made sense somehow—no dealing with the changes it could mean to their relationship—it would always, for him, just be a bittersweet memory of something that could never be.

His hand at her front was joined by the other and they found the hem of her shirt and skimmed underneath it, traveling lightly along her softly rounded abdomen, skin on skin and she trembled. They moved higher to cup her small full breasts, thumbing the peaks to attention as his mouth opened over the crook of her neck, kissing, nipping, and suckling there. She leaned back into him, weak at the knees. From his past aversion to touch she had expected him to be more tentative and so was surprised at the surety of his hands moving over her body, his busy mouth on her flesh, the evidence of his desire grinding into her as he bucked his hips against her.

"Need." He groaned and turned her in his arms so he could lift her and carry her to the low cot with its thin mattress, clean sheets and pillow, prepared for use as part of the original isolation ward plan. He laid her down and she looked up at him, his cobalt blue eyes hooded, dark with desire—a look she had never seen on his usually either agitated or totally Zen face. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows, watching him as he stripped off his vest, jacket and shirt, his eyes returning to hers each time a garment interrupted his gaze. He unbuckled the belt and sheath holding his large knife and dropped it to the floor and she shivered, wondering if that's what he would use on her when the time came. Without the belt his loose pants dipped low, and she could see the sleek jut of his hips, that curved line of muscle disappearing under the waistband in front, the outline of his erection clear against the well-worn brown material.

She sat up, knelt on the bed and reached out, hooking her index fingers in his belt loops and dragging him forward. She put her mouth on his flat stomach, kissing him there and felt his palm on the back of her head, his fingers caressing her short curls. Her head moved lower and her hands moved to the button of his fly, but he gripped her hair harder and spoke.

"Un uh-won't last—com'ere." he admonished, and moved his hands to her upper arms, dragging her up his body until she was standing up in front of him. He found the hem of her shirt again and this time pulled it up and off over her head, tossing it over his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed along her shoulder, sliding the bra strap off as he reached it and then kissed his way across her collar bone so he could do the same to the other side and then he slowly lowered the straps off of her arms and the loosened bra showed a view of deep cleavage. He used his mouth again, kissing and licking the valley between her breasts, his rough beard making her whimper until he finished pulling the rest of the scrap of cloth still covering her chest off and unhooking it in the back so he could find her now erect little rosebud nipples with his lips. It was a delicate, efficient way to accomplish his task of undressing her further—Daryl Dixon had moves.

"What do you want?" he rasped between loving licks and nibbles on her delicate creamy flesh.

"To be yours…to spend the rest of my life loving you…and you, mine, loving me..." Carol said desperately, bitterly, the situation finally dredging complete honesty from her. Daryl stopped what he was doing and his head came up, his eyes meeting hers, brimming with tears.

"All right." He murmured, and gave her his little smile and leaned in to kiss her so sweetly that she thought he'd need neither blade nor bullet when the time came—she would die of joy from this, his mouth moving over hers, tentative at first, but growing in intensity as she responded, becoming ever more passionate, irresistible.

Daryl returned them to the bed, stripping off his pants and briefs and undressing her the rest of the way between the same sorts of mind drugging kisses and caresses, touching her in ways that drove her insane with pleasure, using his mouth on her until she cried his name, her fingers twined in his too long hair as his whiskers tickled her thighs.

When he was finally inside her he stared deep into her eyes as if he was trying to memorize her soul, and she breathed deeply, feeling every part of his body moving with hers, her core already so sensitized from his earlier attentions that all it took was a few strong thrusts and his fingers lightly moving against her swollen bud and she came, screaming.

"Do it…kill me now…" she whispered, digging her fingers into his biceps and crying out in ecstasy as another orgasm overtook her, but she felt him shudder and groan, thrusting harder as she clamped down on him so tightly he thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck woman –yer killin' me!" he yelled and he erupted inside her—she'd never felt anything like it before—never had she reached her peak at the same time as her partner—it was her last best moment, and it was with him…

"I'm ready…" Carol said quietly, giving him one last kiss and she closed her eyes.

"Carol! Look at me. I'm not gonna kill you." Daryl said fiercely, grasping her shoulders, shaking her. Carol's eyes flew open.

"Are you ready?" someone outside the room called in a harsh whisper.

"Give us a sec." Daryl replied, releasing Carol and pulling clothes out of a backpack he had stashed under the bed and handing them to her.

"Put these on—fast as you can, we need to move." Daryl said impatiently, pulling on his brown pants. Carol just sat there, still stunned.

"Daryl?" she whispered. Daryl continued to dress as he looked over at her.

"We don't got all day, woman—get dressed!" he growled and then moved to the door to unlock it and let Michonne in. One look at them and the swords-woman knew exactly what had gone on here before her arrival—and besides that, the room reeked of sex.

"Give me her clothes." Michonne said with a smirk at Daryl and he glared at her as he handed them over. "I'll be right back." She told them, nodding at Carol, who still looked bewildered at this turn of events, but was now up and dressing.

"You planned all this? When?"

"Soon as we got back and saw what was happening. Ain't no way you did it—I'm gettin' you outa here 'til they come to their senses. Come on now—Michonne's got a walker she'll put yer clothes on and then put it on the pyre so's they think I did what I said. I told Rick I'd need some time alone…after…so they'll think I'm on a hunt. She'll hide you and then get you out after dark and take ya to where we'll meet up."

"You're coming with me?" Carol asked, confused.

"'Course I am." He snorted at her like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. Because he didn't think she could survive out there on her own, she thought, tearing up, looking down at the floor.

Daryl came over and stood in front of her and gently lifted her chin so she had to look at him.

"Where else would I be?" he said, and he kissed her once, softly, his arms going around her and then he rested his forehead on hers. "I'm yours, remember?" he reminded her.

And away flew all of the bitter, leaving only the sweet.

AN: 11/30/13, I updated this with the lyrics from the Adele song because when I heard it today it just fit so perfectly with what this chapter was about. (They are hers, not mine, no infringement intended.)

I hope you enjoyed the tension & surprise ending; )