This chapter is 100% Caryl, and the only warning I have is for sexual content - not so bad, right? ; )

I received an awesome review over on NineLives from Erika_Sakura: "She's his soul." And that is precisely how I would summarize this chapter. I hope you enjoy it, thank you AGAIN for all reading : )


Daryl was half-done stripping out of his clothes, more than ready to crawl into bed and be done with the whole goddamn day, but only got as far as removing his shirt before collapsing on the edge of the bed and letting his fingers grind away at his temples rigorously.

He hadn't heard Carol make her way back into their room and shut the door softly. Hadn't realized she'd changed out of her clothes and into her time-worn nightgown.

Daryl loved that nightgown. He loved the light blue colour that had faded to something almost white. He loved the lacy trim at her bust and around the hem that used to be white but had now turned into a dingier version of it. He loved that it was almost see-through when the light hit it just right. He loved that she seemed to be wearing it until there was nothing left of it before she'd even think of buying a new one. He loved the way it felt as it rubbed over his body between the sheets. He loved the way it looked on her, and the way she felt in it underneath his hands.

Carol crept up behind him on the bed, her legs straddling either side of his hips as she kneeled behind him and touched her hands lightly to his shoulder blades, gliding them outwards and wrapping her arms around his broad frame. Pressing herself to his bare back, up against his thick scars. The ones he'd been self-conscious about at first but now let her touch and kiss.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder blade as she hugged him a little bit tighter. Her fingertips grazed over the skin of his chest, lightly tickling the hair that sparsely covered him there. He exhaled softly with her touch, deflating just barely.

"Things were good, right?" he asked her, his voice taking on a hint of desperate sadness.

Carol dragged her lips lightly along the skin across his shoulders at the spot just before it rounding into his arm, kissing him softly before answering.

"Yes," she stressed in a whisper. "Things were good."

"I should have known," he mumbled, his voice taking on a distinct air of disappointment. "I did know. How could I ever think-"

"Stop, Daryl." Her lips were at his ear, her voice the barest brush of a whisper. "Stop."

One thing about Daryl that made her ache inside was the way he guarded every failure as his own personal responsibility. He carried the world on his shoulders and felt everything deeply. It was also one of the things she loved most about him.

She kissed his skin once again before nuzzling her cheek back into her spot on his shoulder blade.

"We tried," she reminded him. "That was the plan. Remember?"

"Yeah."

It was all he could say, but she couldn't see the way his brow was furrowed deeply as he fought back his disappointment, or the way his gaze was intently focused on his fingers as he twisted them roughly together in his lap, trying desperately to keep his tears away.

He hated the way Merle made him feel like a little boy.

"Maybe he just had a slip up. Maybe…" Her voice trailed off as she tried hard to make it better for him. "Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. It's been real good. Too good. He had to have a slip up, right?"

But Daryl knew his brother, and he knew this wasn't a slip up.

It's just the beginning.

Daryl shrugged so minutely that Carol had barely felt the slight nudge to her cheek.

She could feel how tense he was. She could feel every part of him fighting to hold it together. And so she squeezed her arms around him just a little bit tighter.

She kissed his shoulder once. And again. And then another time before skimming her hands softly over the warm skin of his chest on their way to his biceps. She rested her chin on his shoulder and ran her hands down his arms then, smoothed them over his forearms and linked them with his own, effectively putting an end to his relentless fidgeting.

"It still might be okay," she whispered.

Her hold on his hands tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his own hold clenched in return. His rigid nod did nothing to reassure her that he believed what she was telling him.

She kissed the base of his neck where it met his shoulder and planted a few more along the column until she reached his earlobe.

"I'm here." She decided to try another way. "I'm here, Daryl. And I'll always be here as long as you'll have me." The feeling of her warm breath on his ear chipped away at his dismay. His tension began to seep away, little by little. "We can do this. We're here."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his brow tense and tight. And he let her reassure him even more with her whispers echoing in his ears and her warm mouth on his skin.

And then she said the two words that broke him down to nothing. Melted him down to a puddle and put his entire life into perspective. Because she was entirely right. They were here, and they could do this.

And it really wasn't about anything other than the two of them anyway.

"I'm yours."

She felt his heavy exhale as she uttered the truest words she'd ever said, and then she moved from her place, crawling off the bed and situating herself to stand in front of him and in between his legs. She placed a hand on his cheek, and when he leaned into her touch, she took hold of his face with both hands and brought it close to hers before kissing him firmly on the mouth, gently letting her tongue glide along his lips. He opened his mouth to her and allowed her to deepen their kiss, letting his body relax, limb by limb, his hands listless in his lap.

She took one of his hands gently as her tongue danced with his, bringing it up and he felt his hand brush over the fabric of her nightgown, pushing it onto her breast. He caught on quickly, and squeezed gently on his own accord.

She wanted to make him feel good. Wanted to make him forget for just a little while that there were some things that just wouldn't go away, but also that there were some things – people – that valued and treasured him more than life itself.

So he touched her. He touched her, and he let her touch him and let himself feel all the good that she made him feel.

When his fingers snaked their way down her body and back up and under her nightgown, grazing over the damp heat of her panties, he felt her flash a ghost of a smile against his mouth before she brushed his hand away.

This was all about him.

She swiftly pushed her panties down her legs and stepped out of them, her mouth never leaving his. He let her push him back onto the bed as he reclined against the headboard, and he lifted his hips as she pulled his pants and boxers off, tossing them carelessly onto the bed next to them before bringing her mouth around him and taking him in deep.

She licked and sucked at his head, and he groaned loudly as his hands came up automatically to grab hold of her hair. She used her hands, too, in just the way he liked, and released him at one point to take a breath as her hand pumped firmly along his length.

She felt his hips buckle towards her as she wrapped her lips around him once more, slowing down just a bit. She didn't want to rush it. She wanted him to enjoy every last second. She wanted to make him feel incredible.

"Carol-"

She let him go with a pop at his warning and moved herself to straddle his hips, his firmness resting lightly against her front at the apex of her thighs. He watched with parted lips as she brought a finger to her mouth and sucked on it briefly before using it to ready herself down below.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, and his head fell back when she sunk herself slowly onto him. Daryl grabbed onto her hips – that spot he loved where hip met thigh – gripping firmly enough to control the speed at which she took him in.

She stilled when she had sheathed him completely, but the tiny movements she inadvertently made as she reached down to grab the hem of her nightgown and pull it over her head had him clenching his jaw as he watched her.

And then she placed her hands on his thighs behind her to hold herself up. His gaze flew instantly to her breasts that were on full display to him now, and she began to move slowly and purposefully. He brought a hand to a soft mound, keeping the other on her hip for leverage as he thrust upwards to meet her halfway.

Her hips rocked back and forth over his, the sounds of their laboured breathing filling the room, and she moved her hands to lean forward and brace herself on his shoulders, dropping her head to the crook of his neck before nipping and sucking at the smooth skin there.

Moving up and down, she revelled in the feeling of his big, rough hands sliding to her backside, caressing the soft flesh there gently with the lightest of touches, moving his hands in slow, circular motions.

Sometimes they didn't need to talk. Sometimes all they needed was a glance or a touch.

Tonight there was nothing more to say, tonight they only needed this. He knew she'd never be able to say in words what she was trying to tell him with her body, but he understood completely.

She was here. She'd always be here. He had her.

It wasn't about the sex, not really. It was about the vulnerability and the trusting and the giving. It was about feeling nothing but comfort and relief and warmth when she had pressed herself up against the scars littering his back. It was about the intimacy, and the fact that they'd never had this until they'd had it with each other.

And right now she was making him feel good. Using her body to show him how much she cherished him. And in return he was making her feel good. She reminded him as he watched her throw her head back in pleasure that he had a place in this world.

He loved, and was loved in return.

He was worth something – meant something – and had someone that he valued more than anything he ever had.

And before Merle came back into his life like a tornado, it had made sense. Carol made sense; perfect sense. He refused to let Merle rip her away from him. He refused to let Merle come into his house and fuck him up so bad that he'd ruin what he'd built with his Carol.

No.

He would fight back hard.

She bit down on the soft skin of his neck as he began to move faster and harder, and she felt his hands glide up her back and hook onto her shoulders. Her head flew back and she cried out loud, grabbing onto his hair and clutching his head to her chest when he pulled her down and slammed himself into her hard.

His grunts and moans spurred her onto her own release, and she called his name as she held him tightly. He kissed the damp skin at her collarbone as she rode out her release, nearing his own quickly with every laboured breath she took, every tremble of her delicate form on top of his.

And when he came, it was violent and powerful, and she felt the warmth spreading inside of her. She loved the sounds he made when he was entirely uninhibited, the grunts and groans that he couldn't seem to control, and the way his body shuddered, and he just couldn't help himself.

He wrapped his arms around her as she curled herself into him, placing featherlight kisses at the base of his throat, just beside his Adams apple. He ran his fingers along her back as their heavy breaths slowed back to normal, and sloppily reached to throw the cover over them as he softened inside of her.

The kiss she pressed to his jaw was just a bit firmer than the ones she had peppered to his throat before she brought her face close to his. The look in his eyes was enough to bring her to tears, but she swallowed it back heavily.

She watched the way his gaze travelled over her face, paying close attention to every single part he laid eyes on. When his sights seemed to linger on her mouth, she brought her hands up to smooth the hair off his forehead, holding it away from his face as she took hold of either side.

"I love you, Daryl," she told him bluntly, her low voice creeping slowly into every pore of his body. No magic, no fluff. All of the lust and the cloud of heavy emotion had dissipated. It was just fact.

He paused, looking at her for a moment with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Still ain't sure why," he muttered.

Her brow furrowed in concern at his words, and she pursed her lips before she opened them to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I'm just…I dunno, I ain't sure what this whole thing is."

That certainly didn't help, not at all. And when he saw her face blanch at his words for a moment, wondering what he was saying while his dick was still inside her, his hands nudged gently at her hips. She took the hint, nervously grabbing for his discarded underwear next to them on the bed and used them to hastily deal with their mess, and he turned his torso to the nightstand as she climbed off him. She fumbled to cover herself with the sheet as her heart pounded heavily.

He'd never spoken like this before, he'd never 'not been sure'. She had no idea what he could possibly not be sure of.

When Daryl turned back to lean against the headboard once more, he held a fisted hand in his lap as the other ran through his hair. He exhaled nervously while Carol stared unblinking at his face before he finally began speaking.

"I know I love you," he began, his typically lumbering voice soft. "And I know you love me, even though I don't really get it all the time. Ain't never been treated this good. It's all new, but," he paused, his eyes on the hand that sat in his lap, still curled into a fist. "I know I like it. Ain't never felt so good. Ain't never been so glad to see anyone else feel good."

And Carol was beyond confused. She knew he spoke the truth. The raw truth of someone who was foreign to anything other than the tough 'love' he'd grown up with.

"I want you to be happy." He looked at her then, and she was thrown by the sincerity in his eyes. His unwavering stare told her this was hard for him to say.

"I am happy," she reassured him, but with very little inflection at all. Simple words, that's what he needed right now.

"Everything's all fucked up with Merle here."

She shook her head before he'd finished speaking. "No, we're still fine. Just like we've always been."

And when she reached for his fisted hand in an attempt to hold it and loosen him up, he only tensed it further. She drew back slightly, trying to conceal the concern etched on her face.

"I just…I don't wanna fuck this up."

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I do. You don't see yourself like I do."

He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for his next words. He prefaced them with one small, minute gesture. But one that could very well be about to change his life.

He opened his fist, an action so slight that she didn't even notice at first. It wasn't until he glanced down at his open hand that she looked down as well, doing a double take when she saw the tiny object sitting delicately in his calloused palm.

Her breath caught.

"What-" she began, but he cut her off abruptly.

"Can I…I mean, do you…" he fumbled over his words, not knowing the right way to say it. "I wanna marry you. And I never thought about marryin' anyone in my whole life, but I know I just want you forever." He shrugged as though it was the simplest fact in the world.

I wanna keep you forever.

And somehow this was the way for him. Like an insurance policy. The idea comforted him, in an odd sort of way. Like if they were married, it would be harder for them to ever be apart.

But she just sucked in a breath, staring down at the beautiful oval-shaped moonstone perched atop the delicate gold band, unable to move.

She'd been married before. She'd been the wife of a man who was perfect right up until they got married.

She hadn't realized Daryl had shifted to it forward, crossing his legs and leaning towards her with the bed sheet pooling at his waist. "I ain't like him," he whispered. "I'd die before I ever laid a hand on you. I would die."

She looked up at him with tears clouding her eyes, shaking her head. He thought she was hesitating because of Ed. He thought she was scared of marriage – of what marriage might make of him. He didn't know that that thought had fled her mind as quickly as it had come up in the first place. He didn't know she was simply stunned silent.

This was a reality she had discarded for herself long ago.

But Daryl had expected this from her when he decided to buy the ring. He hadn't a clue what she'd decide on in the end, but he would stay with her – unmarried – if that's what she'd prefer, he'd already resolved.

He was calm. Patient. Understanding. Solid.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not trusting her voice much more than that.

"We don't gotta get married," he reassured her. "We don't. We can keep on just like this if you want. But I ain't leaving you."

Her eyes bore into his, and she nodded absently at his declaration. Whatever she wanted.

I've never been with a man who's asked me what I wanted.

"Carol," he pressed softly. "I need you to tell me that you know I ain't like him. I gotta know it."

Her eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the insecurity she heard in his voice.

"I know it," she murmured, taking his face in her hands and drawing him close. "I know it. Daryl, I promise. Where did you get it?" she asked, looking down at the ring and supporting his open hand with hers, her thumb running along the edge of the band.

He watched her face as he told her, "Found it at some antique shop. Saw it in the window, thought of you."

"It's beautiful," she breathed, unable to take her eyes off of it.

But still, he couldn't take his eyes off of her as he bluntly told her, "I wanted you to have it."

"I love it."

His quiet huff of a chuckle brought her face quickly back to his, and she realized she'd never actually answered him.

She drew him closer and kissed his lips. "I do want to marry you," she whispered against his mouth. Slowly, to be sure he heard every word.

He smiled, and she felt it in the crinkle of his nose against hers and the warmth of his quiet snicker. "Yeah? You sure?"

"I'm sure," was all she said, without a hint of humor.

His eyes met hers and lingered there a moment as he took it all in, the magnitude of what he'd just asked, and how his soul soared at her answer.

And then he looked down at the ring as her gaze followed suit, and he moved his open palm towards her, offering up the ring for her to take.

A soft smile graced her lips at his token before she held up her left hand, palm down, and he slid the ring onto her finger.

Her smile widened as she looked down at the unconventional engagement ring on her finger, and when she looked back up to his face, she could have burst at the shy smile he held. She crawled promptly into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She buried her face into the crook there and he held onto her tightly, hands splayed on her back and forearms covering as much of her as he could manage.

"Let's run away together," she mumbled.

She smiled into his skin when she felt him chuckle. "Best damn thing you ever said."