Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Pairing: Caryl

Rating: M/E

Summary: After Daryl finds Carol in solitary, and she thinks they need to chat, her latest brush with death making her realize how futile it is to hide her feelings from him any longer Sometimes best intentions just don't go as planned.

Tags: *Carol/Daryl, *Spoilery for 02x06, *Smut, *A little angsty, *What my muse thinks should've happened, *This ship is killing me with feels!

A/N: I had this one posted before as 'Solitary'. It has been re-edited and re-named for 'reasons'. Hope you enjoy it all over again. This chapter contains adult situations … reader discretion is advised :D

Lost Without You

By:

CharlotteAshmore

Chapter One: Out of the Tombs

Carol took a long draw from the water bottle Beth pressed on her as she held still for Hershel to finish his diagnosis. It was no more than her savior had told them all after he'd lain her on the cot in her cell and gone to fetch the others with news of her survival. She wondered briefly how many times Daryl would come to her rescue before it was all over and the Earth was ready to be reclaimed by the living.

When she'd drained the bottle, Beth pressed another upon her. "Beth, I'm fine," she said, offering the girl a fond smile before her eyes drifted once more to the open doorway where her friends had gathered. They were beginning to disperse one or two at a time, and she was disappointed Daryl hadn't lingered. The ghost of a smile on his lips had faded and he'd turned a bit sullen now that he'd seen to his duty. He must be more than a little tired of having to save her so often. She was getting better at defending herself, but sometimes she still felt like a burden to their people.

Hershel shook his head at his youngest daughter, but his words were for Carol. "You'll be weak for a few days, but with rest and lots of fluids, you'll be fine." She thanked him, and with a pat to her knee, he took his leave, hobbling as best as he could on the crutches they'd found in the infirmary.

She'd been devastated to learn of Lori's death. Yet another child would have to grow up without a mother, but she wouldn't lack for surrogate aunts and uncles. Neither child would have to grow up without love. There had already been so much loss. Being trapped in the lower bowels of the prison, thinking she was going to be the next to die … It just made her want to find Daryl all the more to thank him. But first, she needed to scrub the blood and grime from her thin frame. She couldn't go to him as she was, Carol thought in disgust.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Beth asked as she watched Carol reach for her pajamas and one of the fluffy towels she'd claimed on their last run before finding the prison and making it their home. "Dad said you'd be weak and –"

"I'm sure I'm strong enough for a shower, Beth," Carol chuckled wearily. "I'll be ok. Why don't you check on the baby and I'll meet you in the kitchen to help with dinner later?

The girl hesitated at the cell door, her brows drawn together worriedly. With only a handful of assurances, Beth nodded and disappeared through the cell door. She would be okay, and they all knew it. There was no reason for them to hover over her. Soon enough, albeit slowly – and with her towel and fresh clothes in hand – she made her way down the still unfamiliar corridors to the showers.

She pressed one hand to the cold plastered walls to steady herself, her stomach churning with unease. What she wouldn't give for some good antacid tablets. Just the thought of going to Daryl's perch at the top of the second-floor stairs for a late night chat was enough to send her belly fluttering with nerves. Perhaps Hershel had found some bicarbonate in the infirmary. You're absolutely pathetic, Carol. It's a crush … nothing more, she tried to tell herself. It was, however, getting harder and harder to convince herself what she felt for Daryl was anything less than a true and abiding love. It wasn't hero worship, and it wasn't a simple fondness or sexual attraction.

Carol pressed her brow to the cool wall and groaned. Oh, there was definitely the attraction she'd felt for him, even from the beginning. It had been much more difficult to hide her attraction for him before Ed had died. Jealous, abusive bastard! She still had nightmares about her years with him. It wasn't enough she had to deal with the walking nightmare outside their gates on a daily basis.

So lost in thought, she nearly tripped over the step into the showers. Lovely, Carol … let's add a concussion and a scraped knee to your list of maladies today, she admonished herself. She tossed her little bundle of clothes onto the bench in the outer room and slipped the shoes off her feet, followed by the rather nasty pink top she literally had to peel from her torso. She took the towel she'd brought with her into the tiled room, so she'd have it handy. Could one hallucinate from a small bout of dehydration? Perhaps if she could have dug herself out of her quagmire of thoughts, she'd have realized before it was too late that the showers weren't empty, and … why - oh, why - did it have to be him?

Even her luck wasn't bad enough to have her standing there in her jeans and bra while the object of her affections was naked and wet not five feet in front of her, the spray creating a fine mist about his glorious body. Her azure eyes widened, her lips parted, and a small whimper rose up in her throat as she took in the scars marring his back. Oh, god, he couldn't catch her there. She knew how sensitive he was about his scars, having pried that knowledge out of him during one night of shared guard duty. She could only be grateful her late husband hadn't left more permanent and visible scars. Hers were etched deep into her soul. She wasn't the only one who suffered from a tortured past of abuse … both physically and mentally. Maybe if she was really quiet, she could slip out and he'd never know she'd been there.

"Carol! What're y' doin' in here?" he growled, turning just his head to glare at her over his shoulder. And then, he followed the direct line of her gaze and stiffened, every muscle in his body going taut with white hot rage. "Get out!"

He watched her pull the towel closer to her chest, saw the fear enter her eyes to replace the pity he'd seen there before. Well, he neither wanted nor needed her sympathy, damnit. He'd known she was there, had heard the unmistakable tread which belonged solely to her, even over the harsh spray of water beating at his head. He'd always been able to sense her presence, as attuned to her as he was.

She was closer now, disobeying his order to leave and disregarding his anger completely. He wasn't able to intimidate her as he could some of the others. Never her. Even the night Sophia had been found … god, he didn't want to think of that – EVER … she'd quietly accepted his rage, allowing him to vent all the anger and frustration pent up inside him. He'd had no comforting shoulder for her to cry on, no platitudes and false condolences … just rage. Rage he hadn't been able to save her daughter. Rage because he had cared, too, because Sophia had been a part of her.

Carol made him feel. She made him believe he could be better than what he was, and he hadn't been able to keep that one promise to her. Just another failure to be added to a long list, he thought miserably. Daryl pressed closer to the chest-high wall which ran down the center of the room, separating one side from the other. He could feel the heat from her body closing in on him, and he was choking on the panic beginning to set in. If she touched him …

Daryl couldn't see her any longer, not unless he turned his body to face her, and he couldn't do that right now … not with her small hands ghosting gently over the firm planes of his back. His mind screamed at him to run, to flee. The emotions rioting for dominance were too much, threatening to overwhelm him. He wasn't used to the softer, more vulnerable side of him, the part of him which he fought to keep hidden from everyone. Rage, pain, anger … that was easy, familiar. It was what he knew, what he used to protect himself.

Her fingertips pressed into the scar tissue on his back, and he flinched. Not from pain. He'd lost the sense of feeling in most of them long ago. No, this was different … soft, warm … her touch. Her touch on his wet skin as they trailed over his ruined back when just a handful of hours ago he'd believed her dead. The panic clenched his chest a little tighter.

"Daryl … " His name fell softly from her whispering lips, and his eyes slammed closed, fighting against the burning pain of unshed tears. He couldn't do this. He just didn't know how. Her slender arm wrapped about his waist, her thumb brushing back and forth over the indention of his navel. He grunted slightly, feeling his body respond to her touch. It was impossible not to feel anything as she pressed her body to his, the scratch of lace against his flesh from her bra, the tiny buckle on her belt digging into his tailbone.

Carol's lips traced a thin scar high on his left shoulder blade where it made an 'x', making sure she didn't miss an inch. He shivered. He couldn't do this. He couldn't lay bare his soul, couldn't show her what a mess he was … had always been. Her left hand mapped a path up his side through the rivulets of water still streaming over him, tracing over some of the thin white scar tissue at his ribs before her palm came to rest over his heart. She rubbed her face between his shoulders as she held him to her, asking for nothing, simply offering everything she was to him.

He pulled his hand away from the wall, bringing it to hover over the one still resting against his belly before his fingers wrapped over her wrist. It was pleasure, the highest bliss to be in her arms, and yet torture at the same time. "Thank you." Two words, innocent in their own right … and the world fell away, sending him plunging into hell.

Daryl's hand slammed down on the lever, cutting the water, the other reaching for the towel he'd draped over the wall, wrapping the thin terry cloth about his hips before turning to glare at her, his sharp blue eyes narrowed. "Thank you?" he sneered. "For what? Failing y' again? Leavin' y' as bait for the walkers that bastard lured in here to slaughter us all?!"

It was that night on the farm all over again in the space of a heartbeat. Carol crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off from the rage building in his tone. Her eyes filled with tears, her lips compressed into a thin line, and he could practically taste her fear, but it wasn't enough to subdue the vicious, snarling beast rising in his chest. He paced angrily before her, hands tightly clenched at his side.

"You're being unreasonable. It's not your fault we lost someone else, and it certainly wasn't your idea to lock me in a cell in solitary. I did that all on my own," she mumbled, staring down at her feet.

"Y' died, Carol! Y' were gone!" She held her ground as he stepped closer, her wide blue eyes focused intently as his face closed the distance between them to peer at her. "I didn't even have a body to bury!" he hissed, his breath coming hard and fast, his lower lip trembling before he turned away from her. "I failed y'! I wasn't there to save y', just like – "

Carol's restraint broke and she reached for him, her hand slipping around his nape, pulling him to her even as he stiffened to resist her embrace. Her fingers slipped into his hair, dragging his head down to rest against her shoulder. "You couldn't have known. Never have you failed me, Daryl. Never," she whispered, her lips pressing softly to his temple. "I love you."

He jerked away from her as if she'd burned him. "Take it back!"

"No."

A rough hand pushed the hair out of his face where it steadily dripped into his eyes, ridding himself of the unwanted distraction. "No, y' take it back. Y' don't love me, Carol. I cain't … I cain't … No!" he shook his head adamantly. "I lost y'. I lose everyone, and I just … I cain't do it again. Y' cain't love me only to leave me, woman," he growled. "I won't!"

Several pairs of running feet sounded in the corridor outside, and he was barely able to pull Carol around and shield her with his body before Glenn and Maggie rushed into the tiled room armed for any threat. "What the hell? A man cain't take a shower around here," he barked, disguising his distress behind his usual gruff demeanor.

"We heard yelling, and thought – " Maggie said, her eyes scanning the room.

"Out!" Daryl insisted, waving a wild hand towards the door. "I don't need an audience."

"We don't know if there are any more walkers on this level. What if there are and they heard you?" Maggie continued to argue, not intimidated by him in the least.

"Y' don't see any, do y'?" he snarked. He was trying desperately to ignore Carol's nose nuzzling into his right shoulder blade. It was a miracle their two interlopers hadn't looked down to notice her bare feet mere inches behind his.

"Who were you yelling at anyway?" she asked, again surveying the room.

"None of your damn business."

Glenn's brows rose, his mouth gaping as he noticed Carol's head peeking from behind her enraged beau. He grabbed Maggie's hand after she'd shoved her Beretta into the waistband of her pants. "Yeah … uhm, we'll just be … "

"Glenn," she scoffed, not at all happy about being disturbed after she'd just fallen asleep.

"Later," he whispered furiously.

Carol watched them leave with a bemused smile. The entire group would know before breakfast she'd been found in the shower with Daryl. The second Glenn disappeared through the doorway, her arms slipped around his waist again, and he just knew. "He saw y', didn't he?" he asked, sucking in a ragged breath as her thumbs teased the skin above the towel.

"Yeah … sorry."

He grumbled under his breath. "Doesn't matter. Their little interruption don't change nothin'. Except now they have some nice juicy gossip to go with coffee in the mornin'."

She sighed and rested her cheek against his back, gathering her courage. It amazed her he even wanted to continue the conversation they'd started. "Daryl …"

"No, Carol … don't start."

"You can't ask me not to love you." She pursed her lips. "Not like I'm even asking you to love me back."

His jaw tightened, and he pulled her hands free, stepping away from her. He wouldn't turn to look at her though. He was running again, and she could feel herself losing him.

"You didn't fail me, Daryl." Her voice dropped in register as heartache obstructed her throat. "Or Sophia. You've done nothing but look after me since our first camp. You made me stronger."

"I thought y' died," he whispered, his voice thick, deep, and dark with emotion he wasn't willing to share. "If I hadn't gone with Oscar and Carl to search the lower levels … or found your knife … y' would have died in that cell."

Carol twined her fingers with his and moved to stand before him, holding tight as she reached up to cup his scruffy cheek. "I'm here, Daryl. I'm alive because of you." A single tear tracked through the grime on her face as he turned his lips into her palm and leaned into her touch. "Please don't push me away because you're afraid."

Daryl shook his hand loose from her grip and brought it up to her jaw, taking it in a firm grasp. "I'm not afraid of anything. You're mine to protect, mine to care for, and I'm sick of losing people, Carol," he snarled, reveling in the comforting haze of his anger as it returned to him. But it wouldn't stay … not with those deep azure eyes gazing back at him, so filled with love and desire and yes, hope to chase it away. "I mourned y'. I cain't let y' in so it'll be that much worse next time."

She shrugged her brows and turned her head away from him when he released her. "I die a little each time you leave on a supply run, too, Daryl, but if anything, I've learned from what I went through yesterday when I was so sure I was going to die."

His eyes narrowed on her again as her tone hardened, never having heard her sound like that with anyone aside from her dead husband. "Woman – "

"No, you listen, Daryl Dixon. It's my turn. Someone has always made decisions for me … my parents, my husband, Rick, you, and I'm sick of it. We don't have tomorrow; just today, right now. So I'm glad I finally took a stand and told you how I felt. I lost my family and gained another. I was weak and now I'm strong … -er," she amended ruefully. "I won't give up and I won't stop fighting; for myself or for you. Do with that what you want." She pushed her way past him, bent to retrieve the towel she'd dropped and moved around to the other side of the wall dividing the communal showers. She didn't even look back to see the admiration in his eyes or the little quirk of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Carol thanked whatever deity might be listening that the cisterns were full of rainwater from the previous night's deluge. Even as low in the bowels of the prison as she'd been, she'd been able to hear the pitter-pat of water against the pipes. She'd heard a great many things, some which she was more than anxious to forget. She fought off a wave of lethargy – a side effect from little food and her bout with dehydration – and trekked to the farthest stall, having no doubt he'd take his anger back to his perch to pout for the remainder of the evening. Always running, he was. Hunting, fighting, protecting the people he cared about … that was his forte, not dealing with his feelings.

She pulled the lever, shivering as the spray rushed out to meet her. It was still warm from the afternoon sun, but nowhere as hot as she'd like. Come summer – if they stayed that long – she'd be, no doubt, wishing for the cool water. Struggling to push her wet pants over her hips, she didn't hear his silent steps until it was too late. Of course, she knew it was him before she glanced back over her shoulder to meet his steady gaze. Even freshly scrubbed, there was no mistaking that earthy smell which seemed to emanate from him. Her gaze became alert, noticing his towel had joined hers draped over the wall. Was he … oh damn! she all but whimpered."Daryl – "

He didn't give her a chance to protest, kicking her wet leggings out of the way and taking one step forward to press himself flush with her back. There was no escape, there never was once he'd set his sights on his prey. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her in and trapping her against his chest as the other hand rose to take her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His thumb ghosted over her lips, and she could only wish it was his mouth.

"Are y' mad at me?" he asked, his voice carrying none of the rage he'd displayed earlier.

She swallowed thickly as he pressed his brow to her temple, having trouble discerning which was more distracting … the fingers drawing patterns over her belly or the feeling of his calloused thumb tracing her lower lip. "N-No. I really didn't expect you to want me, but I felt I would be cheating us both if I didn't tell you." Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, the tip catching his thumb. His eyes bored into hers as they darkened with desire. "I'll always be honest with you."

"Damnit, woman!" he snarled, teeth clenching. He swore inwardly, knowing her low self-esteem stemmed from that worthless bastard she'd been married to. If he weren't a pile of ash, he'd dig up his worthless corpse for the pleasure of killing him again. "How could y' ever think I wouldn't want y'?"

Carol's brows rose as she gave him a pointed look. He could feel the heat rising in his face and ears. "I think you made your feelings for me loud and clear. It's ok, and I under –"

"No, y' don't … or y' shouldn't have to." He pulled her more tightly against him, and he knew she could feel his arousal pressing against her sweet ass. "Does that feel like I don't want y'?" He reached past her, unable to let their distraction in one another cause useless waste, and cut the water. He eyed the bottle of shower gel, and took a tentative sniff. It smelled of peaches and … was that cinnamon? As long as it wasn't too overpowering, and didn't cover up her own unique scent, he didn't care. He lathered his hands and smiled at her soft moans of pleasure as he let his hands run over her curves. "Y' were right, y'know."

"About what?" she breathed, putty in his hands as they kneaded at the kinks in her shoulders and neck. She smiled as he wrestled with the clasp of her bra, his deep voice a heady drug as he grumbled and cursed. He tossed it away in irritation to land atop her pants in a wet heap, and returned to his gentle task of bathing her.

Daryl added more of the sickly sweet-smelling gel to his hands before turning her in his arms to lather her hair. He loved her hair, especially now that it was growing out a bit and he could feel the softness against his fingertips. "About being a coward," he finally answered. "When I thought y' were gone …" He couldn't bring himself to say the word dead. "I don't ever want to feel that way again. It's hard enough to lose one of the others. I cain't lose you again." He cursed himself, disgusted by how raw and open he was, knowing he'd never bare himself to her like this if he hadn't just lost her. Yes, he'd found her, but his emotions had been put through the wringer and he didn't know up from down. All he knew was that she was there, in his arms, so full of life and love and declaring she wanted to be his, to be claimed by him. "Y' attract trouble like a fuckin' magnet."

Carol concentrated on his deft fingers working the lather through her hair, squirming against him as his thumbs teased the sensitive flesh behind her ears. "I won't make a promise I can't keep, and neither will you, but I'm yours for as long as we have. I'll learn faster, fight harder … be strong so you won't have to worry as much. And you'll be the one to teach me, just like before."

He switched the water back on and ducked her head under the spray, rinsing away the soap. She sputtered, the droplets running in rivulets down her face. She was squeaky clean, and in his arms, and he wanted … God, he wanted her so much. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, ignoring the unfamiliar scent as he concentrated on formulating a coherent thought. It was damn near impossible once her slender arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

"Is that what you want, Daryl?" she whispered fervently, almost afraid of the answer.

He dragged his tongue over her carotid, pressing the hard tip to the artery with enough pressure to make her gasp. She tasted like heaven and felt like sin. He'd never been a 'church-going' boy to begin with, and Carol didn't seem the type. What kind of god would have allowed her to suffer Ed's abuse for so long?

Daryl had her trapped between the wall and his body, and he had no intentions of ever letting her go. "Want you; always have," he rasped, his voice hoarse and a bit muffled against the ivory column of her throat as he nipped and teased another moan from her. He could feel the heat of her skin as it flushed a delicate rose, the hue matching her pebbled nipples. He hadn't thought anything could have made her more beautiful in his eyes until he'd borne witness to her now in her passion.

The hand in his hair jerked him back, the pain in his scalp sending a wave of heat sparking along his spine to settle in his lower back and wrap around him, the ache in his groin testament to how long it had been since he'd even wanted to indulge in sex. Before the world had fallen apart, he'd been tired of meaningless trysts or a quick fuck where he'd been able to find it. He'd wanted it to mean something, wanted some kind of connection besides some nameless, faceless floozy behind the local dive bar screaming out the wrong name as she'd come. Why had it taken an apocalypse to find his heart's desire?

She wasn't still while he was lost to his turbulent thoughts, a bundle of nervous energy as his hands skimmed over her flesh. He could feel her vibrating with tension, some of which transferred to him as her hand ventured low over his hip to caress his flank. His chest rumbled with a feral sound, his hands nearly bruising where they tightened on her waist. Her name was forced from his throat as her tongue darted out against his ear and he jerked against her, needing more, needing what only she could give him.

"Shh, I've got you …" she said, promise heavy in the heated whisper which tickled his ear. "Just hold me, Daryl, and don't let go."

As if he could. He needed her like he needed air and he wouldn't fail to do as she commanded. She was begging him to trust her. She might as well have asked for the moon. His gaze found hers as she stared up at him for a long moment, until she apparently found what she needed in his dark eyes, his pupils blown wide with all the desire she'd already wrung from him. And then it was as if a weight had lifted from his chest, making it easier for him to breathe as he realized he did trust her. Not like he trusted Rick to lead them and make the hard decisions, not like he trusted Hershel to guide them with his advice and wisdom, or Glenn and Maggie to watch his back as they fought off another threat with brute strength. No, this was Carol … his Carol, his woman. He trusted her with something more precious, more profound. He trusted her with his heart.

That was what she'd been waiting for, as if she could see the dawning light in his eyes and knew it for what it was … his love for her. She moved slowly now, giving him the ample opportunity to stop her if he wished. But he couldn't fight this thing between them. He wanted it so badly, and it was time to stop pushing her away, to stop denying the feelings which had been building between them since the farm.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as her hot little mouth closed over his right nipple, the shockwave of heat shooting straight to his groin, his knees nearly buckling when her hand wrapped around his length. "Fuck, woman! Are y' tryin' to kill me?!" he ground out, bracing one hand against the wall to maintain his balance.

Carol hummed, her fingers moving over him gently, her thumb spreading the small bead of moisture at his tip. Her teeth scraped over his nipple as he thrust into her hand, a steady stream of curses falling from his lips. It had been so long since he'd let anyone touch him, especially there. He'd had no one to rely on for pleasure, nothing other than his own hand for far longer than he could remember. Even if he could, he knew it couldn't compare to the overwhelming pleasure she evoked in him.

Her nails scraped over his ribs, trailing lower over his belly, the muscles quivering and contracting as they clenched in anticipation of his orgasm. How much longer did she expect him to hold on? What did she really want from him, because the slow sweet torture she was slaking from his mortal flesh was nearly more than he could bear. "Carol!" he howled as her wrist gave a particular twist and sent fire crackling along his spine. "Cain't … please!"

She continued to manipulate him, determined to please him, her hand snaking roughly into his hair, her fingers tightening in the strands at his nape and forcing his head up to look at her. "Open your eyes, Daryl," she said. He'd never heard her voice sound so smoky and dark, another surge of lust rippling through him. He felt his balls draw up tightly against his body. No, not yet … not yet, he thought frantically. "Look at me."

He could feel her breath against his lips, his mind barely registering how close she was. Too close, too real, burrowing her way in. He couldn't deny her, and pried his eyes open with the last of his restraint, knowing what he'd find there in her gaze would send him down a path of no return. And he was right. He'd never had someone look at him like that before. Love, desire, longing, it was all there, his for the taking.

Carol sped up to match the rhythm of his thrusting hips, his cock, flushed an angry red, impossibly hard in her hands. He was so lost in her, so completely consumed by her, yet helpless and wrecked in her hands. "Come for me, Daryl," she said, his name on her lips the most sensual sound he'd likely ever hear. "I want to see you come."

He let go, grinding his hips into her as he came over her belly, pressing them hard into the tiled wall. He buried his face against the smooth column of her throat, panting against her ivory skin as she held him tightly to her. He couldn't ever remember having a more satisfying sexual experience in his life, nor ever coming so hard. "Carol …"

"Shh, it's ok," she whispered, petting his damp hair.

Daryl cursed himself inwardly, reaching out for the lever to turn the water back on to clean them up. It wasn't ok. She'd gotten him off and he hadn't even kissed her yet. But she was his now, of her own will. She had chosen him. There would be time to show her just how much he cared, and what it was to belong to him.

"I have to go," she groaned, noticing the light fading through the high windows. She didn't want to leave him, not after what they'd just shared. She wanted more, but she wouldn't shirk her duties, determined to do her share. "Beth is going to need help with dinner."

"Y' almost died, Carol. I think Beth will be fine making dinner on her own. Y' can take the night off!"

Carol looked down at her feet as he wrapped a towel about her slender form. "I hadn't meant to be this long in here. I just wanted to shower before coming to thank you for saving me."

Daryl tied the other towel around his hips and followed her out into the changing room, his eyes raking appreciatively over her as she donned her sleeping shorts and peasant top. "I'm glad it didn't go as planned," he murmured as he pulled on a pair of fresh jeans and a threadbare shirt, his vest clasped in his hands as a sly grin teased at the corner of his mouth. He swung the vest over her shoulders and pulled her arms through the holes.

"Daryl, no, I couldn't … everyone will know, and –"

He cut her off with a quick kiss to her lips and led her out of the showers. "Don't care." His grin widened. "And this way everyone will know. Unless you're ashamed of me."

"Of course not." She blushed bright crimson, but was pleased nonetheless that he wanted the others to know about the change in their relationship.

""Sides … this'll spoil Glenn's gossip."

Carol chuckled. "You have guard duty tonight on the tower. Do you want me to bring your dinner when it's ready?"

Just before they entered the cell block, he caught her around her waist and pressed her into the wall, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss which left both of them breathless. "Yes." He trailed hot open-mouthed sin along her jaw, his breath warm against her ear. "And wear the skirt I got ya on that last run me an' Glenn went on before we found this place. The one with the little pink flowers." He nipped her ear with his sharp teeth and turned on his heel, leaving her gaping. He had plans for her.

A/N: Will have the next part up as soon as I can. Feedback is lovely :D