We start with another flashback, this time to when Daryl met Carol in freshman year.


9.

"Who's that girl?" Daryl asked in a low voice, watching people start to drift in to the living room for the first house meeting. He'd taken the last empty room, a very small single in the attic, still bigger than his room at home had been, but it was so tiny that Andrea, the girl who seemed to be in charge of things, had said he could have it for the same price as a double.

"Which one?" Rick asked. There were three young women coming through the door, a curvy blonde, Andrea, a slender brunette, the fiery one Rick had his eye on, Lori, in low slung tight jeans and a crop top that showed part of a blue tattoo and last, a petite redhead with crazy corkscrew curls pulled back off her temples with a couple of barrettes keeping them out of her big blue eyes. Her demure loose fitting pink blouse had tiny white flowers on it and her jeans were simple boot cut Wranglers in a dark wash.

"Redhead." Daryl murmured.

"Carol, Carol Mason, she's from my home town." Rick shrugged. She was a cute little thing, but someone he's always thought of like a little sister, despite the fact they were the same age.

"You date her?" Daryl asked, curious. For some reason he couldn't put his finger on he really wanted Rick's answer to be no...

"Naw—she didn't date." Rick told him, "Her parents were real strict 'bout stuff like that. Hell, I doubt if sweet lil' Carol's ever been kissed." Rick elbowed Daryl and whispered in a low growl, "You up for exploring virgin territory, son?"

"Shut the fuck up." Daryl grunted, blushing, shoving at Rick, knocking him off the arm of the big wing chair he'd been perched on, the old worn out one Daryl was slouched down in.

That action drew everyone's attention to the two of them, including the brunette and redhead.

The brunette Lori gave Rick a broad sultry smile and rolled her eyes at their antics.

The redhead, Carol, recognizing Rick, headed right for them, dragging Lori in her wake.

"Rick Grimes! Is that really you?" Carol said happily, looking overjoyed to see someone she knew amongst all the new strangers.

Rick stood up and accepted the brief hug Carol gave him.

"Hey Carol—how have you been?" Rick asked.

"I haven't seen you since graduation—where have you been all summer?"

"Had a job up north of the ATL—spent all summer up there—lived and worked in the state forest marking trees for cutting and even got to fight a couple of small fires." Rick was in school for a degree program in Fire Service management with a minor in Forestry.

"Sounds like it was right up your alley—what a great way to spend your summer—good for you!" Carol said encouragingly.

It had been a chance he'd jumped at; a chance to get out of his parents' house and be on his own in a place where nobody knew him. Every opportunity he was given to indulge his need for sexual adventure, he'd taken it. Weekends in Atlanta and the semi-private shared dorm space at the camp made the availability of willing partners of both sexes like living in a candy store for him. It was everything he'd read and dreamed about doing while hiding in his sheltered life within the perfect suburban small town family.

He'd come back sexually primed and excited about what college life would offer. He wanted a girlfriend, someone not so prim they wouldn't sleep with him, but not the kind of girl with whom he'd act on his more...erotic impulses. He was shopping for a wife that he'd be happy with, one with whom he'd make a home and have kids. One he could love.

And the other? If he wanted to get fucked? Ridden hard and put away wet? Well, more than one of his new friends from the summer lived in nearby Atlanta. And maybe there were opportunities even closer to home...

"Where are my manners?" Rick said, sounding chagrined, and then made introductions since he was the only one of them who knew everyone there, "Carol Mason, Lori Parmenter, this is Daryl Dixon."

Daryl squinted uncomfortably and nodded at both women before settling even deeper in the chair.

"I like your boots." Carol said to Daryl, "I've been saving up to get this awesome pair I saw—Doc Martens, five buckles up the fronts, black."

Daryl couldn't think of a thing to say in response to that revelation. He was having a hard time picturing this dainty little mouse of a girl in that kind of hot boots.

"Daryl has a motorcycle." Rick said after the silence of everyone waiting for Daryl to say something back to Carol's compliment and comment got to be too uncomfortable.

"Hence the boots." Lori nodded, gesturing at Daryl's feet. "Maybe when Carol gets her boots you can take her for a ride."

"Don't have a bitch seat." Daryl said without thinking. All he meant was that his bike couldn't accommodate a passenger, but had used the common motorcycle riders' term for that kind of double seat. Someone as small as Carol might fit on his bike though, if she squashed up close to his back and put her arms real tight around him...

Carol's cheeks flamed and Lori glared at Daryl angrily, protective of the other girl though they'd just met. She put her arm around Carol's shoulders and led her to the other side of the room.

"Shit." Daryl said, realizing how it must've sounded to the girls; like he was calling Carol a bitch...

"Smooth Dixon. Have women eating out of your hand all the time, don'tcha?" Rick razzed him.

Daryl felt like he was going to throw up. This was why he hated social situations. He invariably fucked up and said the wrong thing.

"Don't worry—I'll go explain what you meant."Rick said, clasping him on the shoulder. "But don't think you can sneak out—the meeting is mandatory if you want to stay in the house."

"Thanks, man." Daryl said quietly, doing his best to sink even further into the surface of the chair cushions.

The next morning when she opened her bedroom door Carol found a bouquet of wildflowers in a Mason jar vase with an envelope taped to it. Printed in neat block letters on the envelope were the words "BOOT FUND" and inside it was a wrinkled five dollar bill.

Rick had explained what he knew about Daryl's situation to her when he'd apologized and explained that the other boy hadn't meant any offense. She learned later just how little money Daryl Dixon was living on. That gift was for him the equivalent of several days' food budget. He lived on Ramen, Kraft Mac and cheese and Kool-Aid.

Not wanting to embarrass him, she went to Andrea and asked if they could all get to know each other better by having twice weekly pot lucks, where they could all eat together, everyone bringing what they could to share. She always made a point of making a big meatloaf or ribs or roasting a couple of chickens, claiming they were practice homework for her culinary arts classes and making sure enough was left-over to make sandwiches the next day. The cookies she baked in double batches so she could stick a dozen or so in a bag, leaving them on the seat of Daryl's bike.

Daryl knew it was her who left them, but he never thanked her by coming right out and saying it. Instead he did things for her like scraping the snow and ice off her car in the rare Georgia winter storms, making sure it had washer fluid and changing the oil when needed. It was an odd little courtship of sorts. She fed him and he watched over her. They spoke rarely, but when they did it was comfortable. She even got to the point where she would tease him just to see him blush and hear his protests, telling her to stop or even giving her a little elbow nudge as he did it. Once she even called him "Pookie" and he thought he would melt right onto the floor from how adorable her giggle at his indignation was.

Once that first year when he'd been exhausted from working nights and taking an overload of classes, he'd come back to the house and heard a bunch of them in the living room planning the ski vacation they were going on over Winter break. Rick and Shane were bragging about their new skis and the girls tittered excitedly over their new ski jackets and bib overalls.

Rick had been spending all of his free time with Lori, now officially his girlfriend, leaving Daryl on his own a lot, which he guessed he understood, but he felt lonely and shut out just the same. A trip like what they were planning was impossible for him and his frustration and anger over all of it had him slamming his fist into the hallway wall. Afterwards he looked dumbly down at his bleeding knuckles and at the fist shaped hole in the cheap plaster board surface of the wall.

"Come in the kitchen and I'll clean that up for you." a soft voice said from behind him.

Daryl whirled in embarrassment.

Carol stood there looking at him, no admonition nor amusement in her gaze, only empathy.

He let her walk past him and then without thinking followed her into the kitchen even though his fight or flight response wanted to lash out at her or retreat to his attic room.

She led him to the sink and washed off his hand without a word, and then had him sit in one of the kitchen chairs holding a clean dish towel to it while she got some rubbing alcohol and bandages from the half bath off the kitchen. The bite of the alcohol made him hiss, but he held still for her, afraid if he moved she'd stop and he'd lose the gentle touch of her hands on his.

"I'm not going either." Carol said, still looking down at his hand.

"Why not? Miss a chance to see pretty boys Shane and Rick hot doggin' it down the slopes on their new skis? Show off your cute little snow bunny outfit?" Daryl knew he sounded surly, but couldn't help it. He was tired; tired of just scraping by; tired of having less than everyone else. "That's the crowd you run with right? Why're you wasting your time in here on the no-good likes a' me?"

"You're every bit as good as them, every bit." Carol admonished him, squeezing his hand, meeting his eyes and he saw in their azure depths only truth.

He stared at her, wondering again why she bothered with him.

Other than Rick, no one had ever treated him like this, like he was special, like she cared about him. She broke his heart with her kindnesses and honest praise, knowing he loved her a little more every day, but that he could never tell her. He always treated her with the utmost respect; she was special to him, like one of those little glass figurines in that play about the girl who loved blue roses...too good for the likes of him...too fragile to handle the harsh realities of his life.

Back then that was the difference between her and Rick. With Rick he didn't have to suppress that baser part of himself; with Rick he could be himself, at least who he feared he would be, some lesser avatar of his father... Until even that got all twisted with the sexual explorations and the obsession he'd never understood until it was too late.

Now he knew better. Carol was strong, just as resilient as he'd had to be to get beyond the abuse doled out to him from the time he could walk. She'd made it through her own hell and come out the other side.

With Carol, now, he was who he'd always wanted to be, what she'd always said he was, as good as any of the rest of them, an honorable man.

She was asleep, in the chair beside his hospital bed when he awoke; the first thing he saw and the most welcome of sights he could imagine upon waking. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were purple and blue, her lips barely a blush of pink making her seem cold, drowned...a sudden fear roused him and he sat up quickly but then fell back just as quickly, frustrated by his own weakness.

Hearing him move brought her immediately awake, blinking against the bright morning light. When she saw his eyes were open she smiled and came out of her chair to sit beside him on the bed, facing him. She found his hand and held it in one of hers, using the other to brush the hair back off his forehead.

"So I hear you made some new friends." Carol said, the soft words teasing and tearful as she smiled down at him.

"Don't say much, good swimmers though." Daryl croaked through salt cracked lips, his brine burned throat dry and tight with emotion.

Carol nodded and smiled through her tears and he tugged her closer until she fell against his chest, hugging him close. His arms went around her and they kissed in reunion. Then she raised the back of the hospital bed for him to be able to sit up and he held her hand, looking her over, seeing the bandages peeking out through the V and collar of her overlarge shirt.

"You okay?" Daryl asked hoarsely.

"I'm fine." Carol told him, raising her hand to her chest. "Only took a couple of stitches."

Daryl stared at her, searching for anything she wasn't telling him.

"I'm fine, Daryl." Carol repeated and then said more softly, "He didn't hurt me any more than this. He didn't."

Daryl leaned over and pulled her into his arms again, relief pouring off of him.

"Rick?" Daryl asked, all of his complicated feelings about the man who had once been his closest friend caught up in that one syllable: love, hate, fear, anger, sadness, regret...

Carol raised her head to look at him.

Daryl saw the pain there and nodded in understanding, releasing her to sit back.

"The police want to talk to you, get your version of what happened. Andrea says she doesn't think they mean to charge you, but when there's a death..." Carol explained.

"I don't think he was trying to kill me—when he wanted us to jump?" Daryl said, his voice painful to listen to.

"He just wanted you all to himself." Carol responded, pouring him a cup of water and handing it to him, feeling a shaft of fear shoot through her again as she remembered watching them both fall over the edge of the cliff.

Daryl sighed, but then drank the water down.

There was a knock on the door and Andrea stuck her head in, smiling broadly and coming into the room when she saw he was awake.

"Someone should call his folks." Daryl said, stopping Andrea and sobering her.

"I already did." Carol said quietly. Her parents and Rick's had been friends, they were good people. She felt she owed it to them not to have to hear that news from a stranger.

Daryl had been holding it together until he heard that. Rick's parents had been so good to him during their college years and Mrs. Grimes had still sent him a holiday card every year until he'd moved to California with no forwarding address.

The grace it had taken for Carol to give such mercy to them after what Rick had done and tried to do to her...that broke him. Tears started running down his face and he choked out a thank you and then she was holding him again.

"I talked them into letting us take Daryl home—back to the beach house—and coming back in for questioning...and the other... tomorrow." Andrea said to Carol, "Just come get me when you're ready."

Carol nodded and thanked her.

Andrea nodded back and left.

Daryl's hitched breathing betrayed the effort it was taking him to control his sobs.

"It's okay, we're okay..." Carol said gently, her hand cradling the back of his head to her shoulder, "But I know you...you have to let yourself feel it...you will, it's okay, I'm here."

Daryl's hands gripped the back of her shirt and gave in to the need to lose himself to his sorrow and relief.

"I almost lost you..." Daryl gasped, holding her even tighter.

"I almost lost you." Carol replied in kind, rocking him a bit until he was quieter, more visibly relaxed in her arms.

"Sophia's gonna love the dolphin story." Daryl mumbled into her shoulder.

Carol sat up straighter again, looking down at him with an odd sort of wincing smile.

"She does." Carol said. "She's seen it."

"What?" Daryl rasped.

"Well, there was a dolphin researcher who follows that pod on board the Coast Guard boat and she sort of...got the whole rescue on film." Carol said, getting it all out.

"Really?" Daryl asked, but then thought that was kind of cool; he'd like to see the animals that had saved him.

"And the researcher put it on YouTube and it went viral." Carol said all in a rush. "The wire service and AP picked it up and Andrea's been negotiating with reporters about who gets to interview you."

"No shit?" Daryl asked, nonplussed.

"After the police clear you of any fault in Rick's death, Carol said more quietly. "Andrea's telling them it was an accidental fall from Kahekili's Leap...two old friends horsing around got too close to the edge. Rick slipped and fell, you tried to grab on to him to save him and you both went over."

Daryl frowned at her. Why whitewash the story?

"I told the police the truth about what happened." Carol told him, "And the rest of the group knows, but no one else. Rick's dead. He paid for what he did. You're not. That's all anyone else needs to know."

Daryl nodded slowly, showing his agreement. Bringing up the motivations for Rick's actions would only make the whole incident sound tabloid lurid and let him continue to have an influence on their lives.

"She wants to talk to you too," Carol said, and then clarified, "Denise, Dr. Cloyd, the dolphin researcher?" The scientist stopped in to check on Daryl while he was still asleep, anxious to talk to him when he was ready.

"She's seen this before?" Daryl asked.

"No, never." Carol told him, and smiled, "I think she wants to know what's so special about you."

Daryl grunted at that.

"You are, you know, you're special to me." Carol said, "You always have been."

"When I wasn't sticking my foot in my mouth or putting my fist through walls." Daryl reminded her of how awkward and defensive he'd been when they first met.

"Even then." Carol assured him and he smiled at her in amazement, wondering at how he had been lucky enough to find her again and again, each time he'd thought he'd lost her forever.


AN: When I saw Merritt Weaver was playing Dr. Denise Cloyd on TWD this coming season I had to throw her in there-I loved her on Nurse Jackie!

Thanks for reading!