She was completely against Rick's decision for them to hole up in this place. What was he thinking, a church? They'd had to clear out over a dozen Walkers resting in the pews, one wearing a dog collar. These people had come here seeking hope, help, salvation. And look what it got them. Nothing. Just like her hope had ended up with her baby stumbling out from a ramshackle barn.
If there really was a God, he was cruel. She wanted no part in His lies. His false hopes. There was nothing waiting for them, just pain and misery.
She refused point blank to sleep in between the pews like some of the others, instead, she set her sleeping bag down in one of the annexe's, children's paintings hung up over the walls haphazardly. There was only one cross in the room and she'd gotten on a chair to pull it from it's hook, stashing it away in a desk drawer.
The others were outside, it was an unseasonably warm day and they sat around the campfire, watching Daryl's kills getting cooked up. She had feigned a headache and no-one questioned it. They knew she wanted nothing more than to leave this place.
There was a piano in the corner and her feet made their way over without her having to tell them. The lid was dusty, clouding up and tickling her nose as she pushed it back to reveal the keys.
It had been a long time since, she had touched one, years, really. But her fingers found the keys she wanted easily, playing a tune only a lightly haltingly, getting smoother as she got into it. It was riding a bike, one never forgot.
She heard the door click open and shut and didn't bother to turn her head to see who the intruder was. She recognised those footsteps anywhere.
God, she hoped she could do this again someday. She'd forgotten how relaxing playing the piano was.
Her fingers slowed to a stop as he crept closer, hovering right behind her back.
"What song was that?" He asked, clearing his throat. Carol tilted her head back to look at his face.
"Clair De Lune. Debussy was always my favourite to play." The name did not register any recognition on his face as he sat beside her on the piano bench. Not that she expected it to. She doubted Daryl Dixon would've have counted piano-playing as one of his after school activities as a child.
"Don't stop." He told her in a whisper and she smiled softly at him and started again. Nocturne. Her absolute favourite.
He watched her as she fluttered over every key with a gentle caress, face just inches apart and after the first minute, his face crept closer, pressing itself into her neck.
Her fingers only fumbled the keys slightly as he kissed her skin, chapped lips working their way from her ear to her collarbone and she tried not to act as though she was surprised.
This was not their first intimate moment. It had been a few weeks since then, but every occasion since still hitched her breath and made her wonder what she ever did to deserve Daryl Dixon. Everything else had gone to shit, but not him.
His hands crept around her waist, tugging her shirt upwards and her hands fell away from the keys for Daryl to pull it over her head.
Her skin goosepimpled immediately, although not from the cold and breasts swung free as he removed her and he turned to straddle the bench, tugging her to do the same.
He was so soft with her and she marveled at it. He was normally coarse, as much as he tried not to be and their couplings were always frantic, a hurry to reach the end so as not to be disturbed, whether it be the group or the undead. He knew she hated this place, how frayed her nerves were. How tired of it she was.
His fingers ran over skin, from her cheeks down to her hips, stopping to thumb her nipple, eliciting a soft moan from her.
She pulled away to stand up, tugging her pants off and he pulled her into his lap the second she came free from them, bending her legs to wrap around his waist.
The hot notch between her thighs met his hardened crotch and she ground against it, eager to feel some friction, despite his denim separating them and she melted into his kisses as he clutched her as close as she could.
Eventually, it became too much and she slid a hand between them, fumbling for the button on his pants. Daryl threw a leg over the bench and stood up, setting her down on the keys of the piano with a tuneless thunk. She stifled a laugh as he threw his clothes off and the keys made sounds again as he slid his fingers under her ass to pull her back onto the bench with him.
He slid into her quickly, easily and moaned into her breasts as she rocked on his lap, creating her preferred rhythm. She came first, keening softly into his ear and it spurred him on, using his hand to brace himself on the ivories with a plunk and thrusting up into her.
A few seconds later she felt his warmth spread within her and they slumped together in a sweaty heap. His tongue traced a lazy pattern on a salty skin and she sighed with contentment. If there was any reason to go on at all, with no faith in God, then this was it. She had faith in Daryl Dixon.
Voices were heard in the building and they scrambled to find clothes but they weren't disturbed. Carol returned to the bench and put her fingers back on the keys. Nocturne came tumbling free and Daryl clipped on his knife, placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I told him that we leave this place in the morning, no matter what." He bent forward and placed a kiss on her ear before leaving her to her playing.