This is my submission (in four parts) for the October's Challenge: Caryl Bingo. It's my second story and the first one which is completed.

I used the horizontal line in the middle with Candles, Pining, FREE, Missed Chances, and Nightmares. The 'FREE' could stand for Bed Sharing, First Times, Snuggling For Warmth, A Shower, Confessions, Drunk Confessions, Picnic, Daryl's Bike, Hurt/Comfort, Flowers and Road Trip, because you will find all these squares in the story.

A/n: The little tale begins within the time jump after 06x09 - 'No Way Out' and ends one day before 06x13 - 'The Same Boat'.

Betaed by the amazing CharlotteAshmore!

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. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Likewise, Nine Lives assumes no responsibility for the content of the fiction archived. Readers are solely accountable for deciding what content is or is not appropriate for them to view. By selecting a story to read, you accept that you read and considered the applicable warnings and are of appropriate age to view the material therein.

This is also an excuse for the break on 'Don't kiss!' but I will go back to this. The next chapter is already in progress!

PART I - Lost

She'd lost him.

She'd lost him when he'd tried to pull away, venom spewing from his lips as he'd poured out his failure and anguish. The sensitive man who'd put his arms around her, grounding her to the dirt to hold her back from running to the walker who'd once been her daughter. The man who'd brought her a flower and told her stories about hope had raged against his pain, his voice echoing into the darkness of his camp. Yet, she'd stood her ground and let the bile roll over her, knowing the anger he'd felt had been partly directed to himself. He hadn't pulled away after that night.

She'd lost him in the chaos as the farm had fallen. Everyone had been helpless in their need to escape, and she'd found herself alone, running blindly through the night, only the glow of the barn Rick had set ablaze to light her way, her screams and the sickly moans of the dead echoing in her ears, until she'd seen his silhouette in the darkness, his bike idling on the dirt road, yelling for her to run to safety, to him. He'd carried her away, he'd saved her.

She'd lost him when the convict had sought to sabotage the prison, losing herself as well as she sought refuge in the tombs. The hunger clawing at her gut, and the cold walls had been a petty concern when compared to the emptiness in her soul. Her own breaths, a solitary sound, her only companion when she'd heard the clatter from the corridor. She'd doubted her own sanity when the door had opened and his piercing blue eyes had met hers, a hallucination, a mirage. But she'd been wrong. He'd been very real as he'd lifted her nearly unconscious form into his strong arms and felt the vibration of his body with every step he took. Again he'd been her hero, carrying her back to safety.

She'd lost him when he'd made the decision to follow his brother. She hadn't wanted to believe her own eyes when the car had returned without him. Rick's words had been a blur, heavy and muted in the light of her despair, tears blinding her at the implications of his absence. Maybe it was better he hadn't come back. For a long time, she'd seen herself drowning in him. The more time they spent together, the more of her heart she lost to him. It had been wishful thinking on her part, hoping, praying he could have thought of her as more than his friend. It was ridiculous. He'd only held onto her because he'd had no one else, not since his brother had been left to die on that rooftop in Atlanta. He didn't need her anymore in light of his brother's return.

The moment she'd seen him again had awoken new hope. He'd come back.

She'd lost him without having a chance to say goodbye when Rick had banished her, a banishment disguised as a run. A run, suggested by the man she'd always viewed as a friend, a brother, her trust broken in an instant as his true intentions had become clear. She'd done so much for the group, caring for the children, taking a leadership role to make certain everyone was fed and clothed, a great benefit to their leader who'd rather bury himself in the garden and play farmer. What she had meant to his late wife, what she still meant to his children … it had all been forgotten as he'd left her behind.

When she'd seen the smoke that day, her fear and panic leading her back to the prison, there'd been nothing left to hope for.

She'd been numb for so long afterwards, nothing of who she'd once been left inside her. As she'd led that girl into the woods to put a bullet in her head, a girl she'd promised to care for as if she were her own, she'd wondered when she'd become an unfeeling monster, someone without a single spark of hope. What kind of human being could kill a child?

And then she'd found the group, found him. She'd killed again to save the family which she'd been a part of once. One last sacrifice before she moved on. She'd been cold, merciless, much like the walker she'd disguised herself as, taking out any and all threats to her people. Her conscience had been silent.

He'd run to her, nearly knocking her down in his desperation to get to her … and he'd made her feel alive in the space of a heartbeat. She'd reveled in his embrace, committing every touch, every whisper of breath to memory before her sense of unworthiness returned. She would never forgive herself for the things she'd done, how she'd been. How could she expect him to? She was poison.

She'd lost him when she'd realized what the blonde girl must have meant to him. Daryl had spent a lot of time with Beth on the road after the prison had fallen. He had wanted to save her, and his obsession with the girl had left no room for doubts … he'd loved her. When he'd stopped Carol from leaving, she'd had no choice but to accompany him to Atlanta on a mission to save the girl. She'd been determined to help him find the girl he loved. He'd deserved love, even if Carol would never be the woman he desired.

She'd lost him when she'd let him go. It seemed when the little blonde had died, a part of him had faded with her. He'd lost the girl he'd loved, and Carol hadn't been able to offer him solace, not this time. And even if he'd asked her to start over, to try, it had just been another painful misunderstanding. Clear lines had been drawn in the sands, boundaries limiting their relationship to one of friendship. There would never be more, not when his heart had been claimed by another.

So, she'd stepped away from the group she felt she'd never be a part of again, distanced herself from him, becoming invisible to the residents of Alexandria Safe Zone as she'd been a lifetime ago. The cold-blooded fighter she'd been had been replaced by the meek housewife. She'd adapted, playing her role, her outward visage masking her dark predator's heart. She'd created a person people could trust, hoping one day she could convince herself her act was real, to see a human being reflected in the mirror … instead of the monster.

He'd lost her.

He'd lost her when he'd thrown those words at her like poisonous barbs, the result of his blind anger and desperation over the loss of Sophia, his failure, his pain he couldn't share with her. She'd stood there, his verbal beating washing over her, toxic and biting, her chin lifted proudly despite her broken spirit, taking the blame for her daughter's death upon her frail shoulders. She hadn't pushed him away when he'd been done … a miracle, that.

He'd lost her at the farm. As everyone evacuated, he'd sat there straddling his bike, watching the world burn. His heart had felt as if it had stopped as her scream had pierced the air, sending him into a flurry of motion, wheeling the Triumph in the direction from which the sound had come, praying he wasn't too late. He'd seen her flagging strength and yelled for her to hurry, never having been so afraid for anyone other than himself. She'd wedged herself against him, burying her face against his leather clad shoulder as together they'd sped away, dodging the herd which seemed to encroach from all sides, the glow of the fire left behind in their wake.

He'd lost her in the tombs, brought flowers to an empty grave, and lost himself in his sorrow. He'd focused on Little Asskicker and the multitude of tasks needing to be done to secure their home. He'd refused to believe she was gone - lost forever - and he'd looked for answers in the tombs, afraid to find her walker, doubting he'd have the strength to put her down. Afraid it would be more than he could bear. But he'd had to be certain, even if seeing her azure gaze discolored to a milky white would suffer nightmares until the end of his days. Deep inside, he'd never given up hope of finding her alive … and he had.

He'd lost her when he'd chosen to go off with Merle rather than returning to the prison, to her. Perhaps then he'd sensed there would never be a chance for them to become more than friends. His brother had been his blood, his family, unlike Carol who'd been a puzzle. If he'd pushed, surely she would have rejected him, what he felt for her. She'd been lost to him, regardless.

Her allure, however; had been too strong to resist, and he'd run back to the prison - his brother in tow - sure she wouldn't forgive him for leaving, yet hopeful she would at least still want to be his friend. Even if she could never share his feelings, she would see him as a friend … a friend who'd left without a word. And instead of reproaching him for his absence, she'd welcomed him with open arms and told him how glad she'd been to have him back.

He'd lost her when Rick - the man who'd called himself his brother - had sent her away. There had been no hope, no chance to look for her before the prison fell that fated afternoon. Afterwards, his only task had been to protect the girl placed in his charge, another girl he'd failed. This time, Carol had been the one to find him, to save him. She'd put herself in danger and evolved into a warrior, one which had saved them all.

He'd lost control, the need to touch her, to feel her body pressed to his, to revel in her warmth and know she was alive and with him again overwhelming. The soft woman he'd held, who'd sent a calming peace to settle over him, through his whole being, was a fighter. He had her back, but he could sense she was different. This woman was cold and hard, her mask slipping back into place as he'd let her go.

He'd lost her when the car had hit her, those people taking her with them. He'd wanted to run after her, fighting against the boy who'd held him back. He hadn't even known if she was still alive. After they'd plummeted from the bridge - her delicate hand resting atop his - she'd been injured. How much more damage might the second accident have caused to her body? She'd been taken from him, alone, injured and at the mercy of strangers. His only thought had been his need to get her back.

He'd found her again, saved her once more, but he'd lost someone else along the way. Not just missing this time, and his failure had been complete.

Every time he'd lost her and gotten the chance to get her back, he'd felt as if Carol had changed yet again. She'd become an independent fighter, capable of taking care of herself, a force of nature, and he'd adored her more for her struggle, for the fortitude she showed in order to grow. Yet, he'd also felt her slipping away, the distance between them widening like a gaping chasm. There had been something she hadn't wanted to talk about, not even to him. She'd shut him out.

The rift between them continued to grow, drifting apart with every missed chance, and when they'd entered the safe zone and she'd donned her mask, he'd been sure. He'd played all his cards, missed every chance … it had been too late.

The woman he thought he'd known was no more, a stranger in her place. She couldn't have been further away from him if they were on opposite sides of the world. Her appearance had stunned him - the floral cardigans, slacks and house shoes - her need to ingratiate herself into the community while keeping her eyes open for subterfuge. A part of her was still there; he just had no access to her, and it stung him deeply. What had happened to the bond they'd shared? Perhaps it had evolved out of desperation and loneliness. Maybe the only reason she'd clung to him was due to the fact they'd both been outsiders on the very fringe of the group. They'd needed one another, neither having anyone left in the world to call family. Because he'd failed to save her little girl, did she think he owed it to her to offer his protection? What were they now when she no longer needed him to take care of her?

She hadn't needed him to survive her banishment, nor during her search for the remaining survivors from the fall of the prison. She certainly hadn't needed him when she'd destroyed Terminus single-handedly. And now she had fitted herself perfectly into this new community. She'd made herself invisible again, much like the woman he'd met at the quarry. He had to wonder if this was the person she wanted to be, if the woman he loved had simply been another act she'd created just for him, because she'd needed his protection.

He shouldn't have even tried to become a valued member of the community. Someone like him wasn't made for a place which reminded him of 'Pleasantville' with all the beautiful houses and smiling people. They took their dogs for walks, while his group had been forced to eat canines out on the road. The people of this community were blinded, thinking the walls would provide safety and security, unsuspecting of what awaited them in the world beyond the gates. He suspected they didn't want to know, instead going about throwing parties he never joined.

After weeks in Alexandria, it became his habit to go on runs during the day and walk alone along the walls at night, secluding himself into the garage at Aaron and Eric's home. A bed in the midst of all the tools, spares and his bike was all he really needed.

When it became silent inside his shelter, when night deepened and the outside world quieted, his thoughts would venture to her. He still questioned her appearance, ever hopeful the person she'd become was merely a charade. One she clung to, one which she wouldn't lift … not even for him.

Outside the walls, he fought against the dead; inside against the living. Before the turn, the people of this community would have crossed the street, unwilling to share the sidewalk with such white trash. Now, he was respected, his skills with his bow and knife, his keen sense of survival garnering their praise. He protected them, fed them and they admired him. The women who had looked at him before as if he'd been dirt under their shoes suddenly saw him as desirable. They chased after him, making him feel like prey instead of the mighty hunter he was. They presented themselves to him on a silver platter. All he would have to do is choose one and surrender himself to her attentions.

Still he wavered, wondering if he should hide from them or take what was offered. He mused thoughtfully about what was left for him in the new world, and if some distraction couldn't ease the pain he suffered every time he looked at her. She wouldn't care, not even as a friend. But for him, his heart ached with betrayal. Yet, why should he hold onto someone who'd never been his, would never be his, when perhaps he had a chance to numb himself with someone else?

Chapter End Notes:

Thank you for reading!

I hope you like it.

Let me know what you think! :)