This started out as a role play between myself (gunslingerdixon) and my Carol rp partner untapdtreasure (nolongeraxburden), and it was mutually decided upon to share with the rest of FF as a fanfiction. So here it is! Enjoy!

If y'all are interested in following us just go to: nolongeraxburden. tumblr .com or gunslingerdixon. tumblr .com

Also: we own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl felt the dig of her nails in his skin, but he didn't make indication that it bothered him any, no wrinkle in his brow nor the curl of his lip. He quietly swallowed the lump in his throat in a somewhat standing vigil by her side as she continued to hold onto his arm. He understood and if she needed to vent in some manner whether it be purposeful or accidental he would be there. He would listen like he always did when she talked.

He carefully took in the words she spoke, clenching and unclenching his jaw out of frustration, their meanings repeatedly slapping him in the face saying that nothing was going to matter because she had taken lives. He tried not to scoff but knew it fell off his lips despite his best effort. They'd all taken lives, whether enemy or not. "Don't matter none what we've done. It's 'bout what we do… Here'n now. You did somethin' and it might not've been what were right— but it was somethin'." He growled working his jaw.

It was hard to keep his eyes from her crying form, a slight reminiscence from his childhood when his Mom would cry. He didn't really know what to do or how to react— hell he'd simply ignored his Mom when he was a kid, but he couldn't ignore Carol. He simply stood there, hand still at her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently against the fabric of her jacket. It was all he could offer and then nothing beyond. He wet his lips, tilting his head up eyes fixed at the sky, sighing deeply.

He felt like two halves of himself were being torn from left and right. Part of him wanted to leave and let it be— Rick had made his choice and so had she… So had she. The other part of him wanted to linger for as long as he could allow, a deep want to stay nearby, but he knew he simply couldn't do that. She would just push him away and tell him she didn't need him. That he was needed elsewhere. What about his own needs? What did he need? Needed the familiarity of those around him. He needed the comfort of knowing that those he held close to him were safe. Then it suddenly clicked. The not knowing. Daryl was afraid of not knowing that she was safe. Afraid that she would end up all alone— a similar fate like that of her daughter. He didn't want that.

Fear. It was everything that he wasn't supposed to be. Fearful. Dixons weren't fearful of anything, 'least of all losing people or death itself. Daryl shook his head at the thought withdrawing his hand from her shoulder, ending his part of the contact. He didn't like being afraid. He didn't like this roiling feeling in his stomach, twisting about in his guts. He didn't like that he was vulnerable. Didn't like that when he looked at her a bit of himself felt completely helpless, a little less than useless. This was everything he wasn't supposed to be. But he was. Daryl was afraid that she would simply just disappear like everyone he'd ever held close to him.

Daryl looked at Carol. His gaze meeting hers for the first time. He'd been somewhat ashamed that he'd sought her out not understanding why it was— like some little kid crying for their guardian— but he had some insight as to why now and he felt like he could look at her. Look to her. "Everyone has a place. Even you." He said finally, biting back the grimace and the furrow of his brow.

Carol's eyes moved up as he spoke the words. But it was something. She knew that's how he would feel that it was wrong, that it was something she should have thought longer and harder about before acting, but he didn't fault her for acting. She could breathe easier knowing at least that. Her hand fell from his arm. She then wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield her from any more pain, but she knew this was the pain she'd be forced to live with no matter how long she had left to live. And she was sure that she'd never grow accustomed to it, and she figured that she wasn't sure she was supposed to so that was okay.

Her eyes fell back to the ground as she shifted, mulling over the things that were said and those that were left unsaid. She felt small and insignificant to Rick and the others, but never with Daryl. No matter how many things she did wrong, she didn't think he'd ever truly hate her. Not even when she'd spoken out of turn against his brother, but she had understood his need to keep him close, try to keep him safe. Even if in the end it hadn't worked out. She swallowed the lump in her throat and was about to speak when he spoke again.

Before she could think, she reacted, "What is my place, Daryl? Because even if I wanted to, I can't come back, can I?" She wasn't sure if she was asking him to take her back or just wanting to his know his thoughts on the matter itself, but she felt sure that she already knew her answer. That she wasn't going to be a welcomed sight at the prison for a long, long time to come if ever.

She put her hand to her mouth, wishing that she could turn back time and take back the question that she'd posed between them. It didn't do to dwell on things. She was where she was now at the doing of her own hands and that was what she had to get through her head and accept.

"And you don't have to answer that." It was in that moment that she was more certain that she didn't want him to answer. She feared what his answer would be. Rick didn't trust her. And nor should he. But did Daryl? Did she really want to know? Was she ready for that?

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