i

[They say I'm too young to love you; I don't know what I need.]

Carol hardly ever cried anymore – I knew that. Everyone knew that. But it was only me that knew she sat and sobbed herself to sleep in her little cubby in Alexandria.

It was always a new reason. It was usually her kid - she told me once that Sophia was like a distant memory now; a childhood dream in the far past, like she didn't really happen. She was from another world, and had never really been part of this one. But tonight, when I climbed silently through her window to pay her a nightly visit, I knew already that it wasn't about Sofia.

She was sat on her bed, her knees to her chest, back against the wall. Her hair – which was growing out, and she'd decided not to cut it this time (something about preserving some femininity, I hadn't really been listening) – was held back with a red bandana that she was wearing as a headband. Carol felt me before she saw me; I could tell by the way she tensed up and gave a huge sniff, as an attempt to stop herself crying. Moving her hands, she looked at me with red rimmed, squinting eyes.

"Daryl," she whispered hoarsely, avoiding eye contact. I'd seen her cry a hundred times, but she still always seemed embarrassed about being caught with her face blotchy and swollen and her skin tear-stained.

"What's up, Carol?" I asked her. It wasn't my style to be over-emotional and fall about all over her when she was crying – and I knew she wouldn't appreciate me if I was like that. Emotions only made women cry more – I knew from experience.

"Axel," she murmured, wiping her face on the corner of her blanket.

My brow furrowed. "Axel?" Who the fuck was Axel? I racked my brains, trying to think hard of who the hell this person was, before I spoke too quickly and came across as really insensitive. A thousand nameless faces crossed my memory, and suddenly one fitted – a kindly faced man with a red beard and moustache. One of the convicts who was left in the prison when we raided it – the last convict, actually. But he died too, in the end. I hadn't been aware that he had really touched Carol's life. "Axel," I repeatedly, slower this time. I didn't question her though, just waited for her to explain.

"I don't know, I just started thinking about him," Carol said, rubbing her eyes. "He was halfway through speaking when he was shot in the head. I never found out what he was going to tell me about his brother."

"I didn't know you were close to him."

"I wasn't – not really, anyway. But in the few days he was around, and while you were off with Merle – we got talking. He made me laugh. He didn't deserve to die." I heard a lump forming in Carol's throat, and suddenly she was crying again.

"We're all supposed to be happy now," I muttered. "This place is like a haven – no walkers, no nothin'. We all got jobs and the kids go to school – what you still getting upset over every night?" I knew I was coming across as a bit harsh, but I couldn't help it. This was every damn night. She looked up at me, her eyes soft and patient. She was always patient with me, Carol. I don't know how she could be. I don't know how she didn't hate my guts, after some of the stuff I said to her.

"It still all happened, Daryl," she replied. "I know you might be made of leather, but the rest of us aren't as well adapted." She lay down, pulling her sheets over her, and turned away from me. As usual, I knew that was my cue to leave.

ii

[I think I'm too cool to know you, you say I'm like the ice I freeze.]

I knew he had feelings for me, but he wasn't one to show them. I always knew that, I guess – since back when we were at the farm. More so since we were at the prison and he found me in that cupboard and carried me back to the rest of the group. I still remember how he felt, strong and caring, his arms protective and gentle around me.

I was distraught when he left to be with Merle, though I did my best not to show it in front of the rest of the group. I think they all knew that there was something between Daryl and I, but they probably didn't understand it. I don't think we understood it. We still don't.

He comes into my room every night in Alexandria. Every night, no exceptions. Even the nights that my eyes are dry and I can't think of anything to cry about. He's never come close to starting a relationship with me, and I don't know if I'm bothered about that. I'm glad to have Daryl around, but whenever I think of getting intimate with another man…

Ed flashes before my eyes. Ed raising his hand to me and leaving me covered in bruises, scaring poor Sophia to within an inch of her life…

And even though all that was so long ago – so, so long ago, it doesn't feel real anymore. That part of my life wasn't the same as now. It's like I died and woke up in another universe, where my fragile heart was iron-forged and I was cold to things I would usually break over. Ed never existed, Sophia never existed…not in this world, anyway. I could almost convince myself this was true, until night time came, and I felt the tears washing over me again.

I wasn't as steely as I tried to tell myself, and everyone else. I was still a woman – there was still a hint of that delicate soul left behind. I think Daryl knew this, because when he crept into my room in the dead of the night, he didn't talk in the rough tones the rest of the group were accustomed to. He spoke softly, words quiet in my ear, reminding me of better times, promising me there were more to come.

iii

[They judge me like a picture book, by the colours like they forgot to read.]

It had become a regular thing, taking Carol on runs with me. Yeah, we didn't really need to do runs anymore, living in Alexandria – the damn place seemed to have everything, and a steady flow of it too. But I don't know, I guess it was just habit. It was always nice to get out and have all the space of Virginia that we wouldn't have had, before. Space was something that wasn't generally easy to come by in Alexandria, too.

I liked having Carol on the back of my bike. I would never tell her, of course, but I liked the way she held on to my waist with her spindly fingers, and how her warm weight pressed against my back, her face against the exposed skin of my neck. It was always over too soon; we would be back at Alexandria before we knew it.

But there were some times when Carol would have other priorities instead of riding around the countryside with me, and I would have to take Beth. Sure, I didn't have to, but the younger girl had taken a shine to me since I had rescued her from her kidnappers after our stay at the funeral home. She stayed in a little hut with Maggie and Glenn opposite from where I spent my nights, and sometimes I would see her little blonde head peering through her windows, trying to spot me. If she saw me heading out and boarding my chopper alone, she would dart through those doors like a rattlesnake.

"Daryl, are you going on a run?"

"Yeah. Nothing important."

"Carol not going with you?" I know Beth liked Carol enough, but even me – who barely knows shit about women and feelings – could spot the hint of jealousy in her features when she saw Carol climbing on the bike with me.

"Not today, something with the school," I'd reply, and before I knew it, Beth's face would light up and she would be climbing behind me before I could make up an excuse.

The last time we went out on a run, Beth kissed me.

It had been a spontaneous thing. We were raiding an old pharmacy to see what medical supplies might have been left behind, and I'd lowered my bow for less than a minute before she was on me: A tangle of blonde hair and pale skin in my face, her lips crashing against mine and her small hands flat against the sides of my face. She was surprisingly strong for someone her size, and it had taken some effort to push her away.

"The fuck?" I'd spluttered. Beth had dissolved into embarrassment immediately, her face burning red and her eyes pointing to the floor. She apologised a hundred times, but I was still shocked. "Beth, I'm nearly twice your age!" I'd hissed. "What would Hershel say?" It had come out before I could stop it, and I knew straight away I shouldn't have mentioned her late father. Beth had kept her gaze on the ground as she walked out ahead of me, and took her seat on the bike.

I never took her out after that, and I never spotted her peering through the window again. She had told Carol about the kiss, probably to apologise as everyone seemed to think me and Carol had something going on, and Carol had teased me about it for weeks.

I knew on a night though, that she was secretly bitter about it. She mentioned the kiss one too many times, and I saw her frown in the dark.

It was the perfect opportunity, and I pressed my lips to Carols for the first time.

iv

[I think we're like fire and water, I think we're like the wind and sea.]

We lived together after that. It was like the action that had spurred us into finally reacting, and secretly I was glad that Daryl had taken the first move. I don't think I would ever have done it myself.

It was weird at first. We were just like normal, but it was more often. But there was something nice about waking up next to a man again – but not a man like Ed. I woke up in Daryl's arms and him in mine. For such an obvious tough-guy, Daryl had a lot of nightmares. I often woke to him in the night, thrashing his arms around and yelling out.

"Merle!"

It took all the strength in me to fold him into my embrace and stroke the back of his neck until he relaxed against me, wrapping one arm around my waist and burrowing his face into my chest, sighing deeply.

We were all a little broken, some more than others. That much was obvious – Daryl wasn't the only person who I would hear screaming and shouting in the night. I often saw Rick with dark circles around his eyes through the day, and sometimes Sasha could be found sat on her rooftop with tears glistening in her brown gaze.

I didn't have nightmares anymore. I didn't sleep enough to have nightmares. And since Daryl moved his things over to my house, I didn't really cry anymore, either. For the first time in a truly long time, I felt blissfully happy. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

We had food and water, and a bed under our heads. I had a man by my side who cared for me, and whom I had adored for a long time. We had friends. We had our family.

It was all we needed.

v

[You're burning up, I'm cooling down. You're up, I'm down. You're blind, I see.]

I treated her like glass at first.

It was easy to forget that Carol had been a mother and therefore not a virgin, plus she had been with a man like her dead husband, and he probably hadn't been careful with her. But I still didn't drown her in the rough and rugged ways I was accustomed to.

Weirdly, she was gentle with me too. Her hands ran over my bare back, tracing each scar and mark that made me shudder at first, but eventually I warmed into her touch. She asked me the story, and I told her willingly, whispering the ugly truth about my alcoholic father into her ear as we lay naked beside each other. Her clever fingers followed each line down my back, and she looked at me sadly when I had finished the tale. I knew that look, and I didn't want her to use it now. Now was supposed to be a special time.

So I'd kissed her gently before she could say anything that would trigger an unwanted memory, or worse – make me angry.

It had been weird at first. Like fucking my sister, or something. Because we'd lived together for so long, and everyone went on about how much of one big happy family we were all the time, it almost seemed wrong for us to be so intimate with each other. I wondered vaguely if Rick had this problem when he had sex with Michonne.

Yeah, he had tried to tell us that they weren't a thing. But they all lived in the same house now, and I had seen the disgusted look on Carl's face some mornings.

We soon got over that, though.

But I could never get over treating her like she was fragile. Even when she begged and screamed with mirth and gasped for more, I couldn't be rough with her. She was delicate, and beautiful, no matter how tough she acted and how much she protested that she wasn't the woman she used to be.

To me she was always going to be that fragile little woman I first met, who stared at the floor and jumped at the sight of her own shadow.

And I loved her just as much, anyway.