A/N:Thanks for your review, guest, and the follows and faves! I can assure you that this story is haunting me as well and I won't let it go until it's finished...which will be in roughly 7 chapters from now (I think). lol So here's the longer chapter with a little bit of fluff...maybe it's not fluff necessarily but definitely bonding. It'll continue in the next chapter, I promise. Let me know your thoughts! :)

Chapter 13:

Her head snapped up and her eyes flew open. For a second she was blinking against the harsh sunlight, completely disoriented. But she was certain she'd heard something.

Her gaze flickered everywhere, assessing the trees in the vicinity behind all of which the potential threat could be lurking. Her body tensed and her fingers curled around her knife.

For another moment everything remained still, then a faint snarl sounded, followed by a second that seemed to answer its call.

Carol quickly turned to Daryl to wake him up but saw that his eyes were already open and staring into the direction the sounds had come from. Unlike her, however, he seemed calm and almost disinterested. He didn't stir when the first walker emerged tumbling from behind a tree, half of its torso burned away, its clothes reduced to crisps.

"Leftovers from the herd," she tried to tell him quietly, but her voice didn't want to comply, "Terminus must have nothing else to offer anymore."

But Daryl didn't nod to acknowledge that he'd heard her, instead he kept looking at the walker as it continuously advanced with the same old apathy.

Pushing away from the tree with such force that both of her shoulders ached, she urgently clasped at his hand. "We have to go. Now! God knows how many more will come this way."

"I'm not goin'."

He didn't budge and his hand hung heavily in hers.

"We have no choice!" she tried once more. "We can't possibly fight all of them. We are in no condition to!"

The snarls were getting louder now but Daryl still refused to move.

Dropping his hand, Carol rose to her feet and bridged the gap between them and the first walker. It was an easy target and quickly found its end on the forest ground but her body was still so worn out from the previous day, from the smoke, the fire, the fear, that she felt almost unable to take on a second one. But that didn't matter. The walkers would keep coming if they didn't flee.

Turning around, she moved back towards Daryl and crouched down in front of him. "This is suicide and you know it. We've got to-"

"It don't matter," he muttered, "don't matter where we go they'll always be there."

"Yes, but giving up is not an option." She replied angrily, frustrated with him as well as herself because she had succumbed to the same hopelessness before he had found her. "You can't stop me from saving you, remember?"

He shook his head and reached for his crossbow. Routinely he put the broken arrow in its place, cocked the bow and pointed it in her direction. A second later the broken arrow whizzed through the air and past her cheek, its blunt head impaling itself in another walker's skull. It hit it with enough force to send it to the ground, but it wasn't enough to kill it.

Getting up once more, Carol staggered towards it and drove her blade into its skull. Out of habit she then removed Daryl's broken arrow as well and returned it to him. He looked exhausted and pale, his body almost hunched over.

Crouching down, she dragged her backpack closer and fished out a second bottle of water which she uncapped. Pouring some of the contents into the palm of her hand, she then began to wash his arms that were just as coated in blood and intestines as her face had been.

"Before you found me," she started, pausing to clear her throat, "I felt completely lost….I felt tired, I had no drive. I couldn't see myself ever leaving that house again. I didn't want to."

Her hands moved up and down his arms, washing him, caressing him and hoping that the physical contact would coax him back to life. His fists were battered, his knuckles bruised. She bent her head and allowed her lips to graze them.

"But I wasn't just tired…I also refused to leave the place where," she hesitated and his eyes curiously darted over her face, "where my latest hopes had been shattered. Tyreese, the girls and I had thought we could stay in that house. We thought that it might not be necessary to move on to Terminus. But things didn't work out…" her lashes fluttered when she blinked and for a moment she was the one seeking comfort in the physical touch, "or perhaps everything worked out the way it was supposed to…I don't know. They moved on but I couldn't. If you hadn't come and saved me, I would've faded away at that house."

Her hands moved up to his shoulders and came to rest there.

"I know you just want to stop running, stop fighting, stop caring. But you'll end up wasting away and Beth wouldn't have wanted that."

"Don't matter what she wanted," he shrugged, "she's dead now. They all are."

"Liar," she managed to produce a little smile as her hand slid up to cup his cheek, "you've cared about my daughter's legacy, Merle's, T-Dog's. You've always cared about what they would've fought for, what they would've wanted you to do. You feel no differently about Beth. It just hurts too much to admit that right now."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "Psycho bullshit…"

Carol shrugged, seemingly unfazed, although her heart had briefly constricted at his dismissive response.

"What happened between you and Beth?" she asked carefully, her thumb brushing over his cheek.

It had never occurred to her that there might have been something other than friendship given their age gap, but she had to admit to being curious nonetheless as to what made him so fiercely devoted to finding her as he had been to finding Sophia.

Can you look out for them like they're yours?

"Nothin'," he shrugged her hand off and with much effort rose to his feet.

She wordlessly accepted his response and left it at that, knowing that cornering a hurt animal would only cause it to lash out.

"What now then, mmh?" he grunted, staying out of her reach while slipping his vest on and rummaging through her backpack.

She didn't have a satisfying answer, was despite her motivating paroles just as lost as he was. Everything they had worked for over the last week had been Terminus and the promise of a reunion with the group. For that they had endured thirst and starvation, for that Daryl had tirelessly pressed on despite the damage to his ribs and the never-ending pain. But in the end Terminus had offered no solutions, no homecoming, just bitter disappointment. She didn't have the answers; only knew that while Daryl was with her, giving up was not an option.

"We keep moving…" she responded vaguely and he turned to face her, his jaw grinding down hard on an energy bar.

"To where?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a tired smile. "Away from here and the herd. That food," she paused to point at the wrapper in his hand, "won't last us forever either so a nearby village or town we can scavenge would be our best bet."

"Alright," he shrugged but he didn't sound convinced.

It was difficult to muster up enthusiasm when that sense of direction was lacking. Still it was a small victory that he hadn't refused to come along.

She stepped closer and pretended not to have noticed the wary look he had given her, took the backpack out of his hand and started fishing for a second energy bar. Once she had found what she'd been looking for, she closed the backpack and swung it over her shoulder, alongside Tyreese's gun.

While Daryl collected his things she took a half-hearted bite out of the bar and waited. The heavy flavor of coconut tickled her taste buds but the oats were clumpy and dry and nearly impossible to swallow. Still, she did her best, knowing that she'd be needing the nourishment.

Eventually Daryl nodded at her and they started to trudge off in the other direction than the one they had previously come from. He was quiet and brooding but she didn't comment; was frantically working on coming up with a plan which was easier said than done when her thoughts continued to return to Terminus.

She remembered the whole layout, saw Glenn's pocket watch in Daryl's hand once more and heard his angry accusations.

Slaughter house.

What were the odds that Rick and the rest of the group had made it out alive? They were battle experienced – that much was true – but were they strong enough to take on a group that seemed so well organized?

The odds weren't exactly in their favour and Carol sadly shook her head. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on it or she'd grow just as desperate as Daryl was.

Silence followed them as they continued to walk for hours, their bodies ragged and tired and hardly functioning. Somehow even the tiniest ache was more palpable when there was no goal and no hope.

Where words continued to desert them, they returned to communicating in gestures and touches, a language that had felt more comfortable to both of them since the very first time they had met.

Then, as the sky began turning dark, rain started drizzling down on them, first softly then with growing intensity. They exchanged looks but continued walking until a little while later a lightning bolt lit up the sky and thunder crashed around them.

"We're gonna need shelter." Daryl muttered and she nodded and together they broke into a jog.

Her lungs were still burning and every inch of her body was protesting but the need for survival was overwhelming. The large open road that they had been loosely keeping an eye out for guidance from their hiding place in the woods forked, one path leading directly into a town 4 miles away, the other one into the unknown.

She shot Daryl a questioning look but he only shrugged. Panting and frustrated she growled and started following the first option. 4 miles was too far but perhaps with some luck they'd encounter a deserted house beforehand.

As they paced forwards the storm around them grew, soaking their clothes with rain. Every meter seemed too much and every corner they turned held another broken promise. But then finally Daryl pointed and yelled something, his words swallowed up by another rumble of thunder. She didn't see anything through the sheath of rain that continued to pelt their bodies, but followed him blindly nonetheless.

They left the street behind and climbed up a small hill on the other side. There, barely hidden behind wild-growing bushes was a small shed that seemed to belong to a nearby house. Lightning split the sky in half once more and without wasting any time the pair of them ducked into the shed that stood completely open.

"It's likely the house won't be deserted," Carol panted, while awkwardly swinging the gun around so she had a better grip on it, "are you ready?"

He nodded and cocked his bow. She knew that he was reluctant but also knew that he cared too much about her to let her go ahead alone.

Exchanging another nod they darted outside again and across the yard to the front door. It was locked and wouldn't budge no matter how hard she rattled on it.

"Move." Daryl ordered; his voice was low and behind him another lightning bolt lashed through the air.

She stepped aside and watched him as he collected enough strength and momentum to kick in the door. It swung wildly in its hinges and bounced back against the wall.

Thunder rolled over their heads as they both hurriedly entered the house, closing the front door behind them. With their weapons poised and adrenalin still coursing through their bodies, they burst into the various rooms, scanning them for threats. But they didn't have to search very much.

Alerted by the sound of their footsteps, a couple of walkers appeared at the top of the stairs, snarling curiously. The female wore a dress that hung in shreds over her decaying body, exposing enough flesh to show the thick noose of a rope that had bitten its way into her neck. Her male counterpart seemed to have starved to death, his ribs piercing through the thin layer of skin that barely stretched across them.

"Easy," Daryl muttered under his breath and they both climbed the stairs together, focusing their energy on one walker at a time.

"Do you think that's it?" Carol asked breathlessly, water dripping down her nose.

"Reckon so," he confirmed, "unless some others are trapped somewhere. You know their kind. They ain't hesitating when they hear prey."

She nodded slowly and then looked around the upper floor.

"The living room downstairs is too open, we'd be too exposed." She commented, peering into one of the adjacent rooms. "But this could do."

Daryl followed her closely and stole a glance over her shoulder.

"Master bedroom. Fancy." He snorted as she ventured in further, checking the wardrobes for any sign of walker activity.

But all was quiet.

So she turned her attention towards the bed while Daryl settled down on a grimy looking mattress that had been placed in a reading nook by the window. Being busy seemed to have done him good, Carol noted while dragging the filthy sheets off the bed and tossing them in a pile on the floor. But now that things had calmed down again, she could see the shadows of remembrance stealing over his face, could feel the energy leaving his body. And just like that, with the switch of a button, their reality began to look as bleak as it had done all along.

With the bed turned into a suitable spot for their overnight stay once more, Carol put down the gun and joined Daryl in the nook by the window. She hoped to provide him with a distraction for just a little while longer so that when it was time to go and sleep, he'd be able to rest without nightmares.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, placing the backpack between them.

"Guess," he shrugged but took the can of spaghetti she offered him without argument.

Another second and a well-angled stab of his knife later, he had opened it up and used his hands to scoop the contents into his mouth. The slurping sounds brought a grin to her face.

"What?" he questioned, wiping tomato sauce from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Nothing," she chuckled tiredly, "just nice knowing that some things don't change."

"Never said I had manners," he muttered, offering the half-empty can to her.

She took it and gave him a soft, small smile.

"I wasn't criticizing."

She lowered her gaze to the spaghetti that seemed to inhabit the can like slimy worms. Momentarily her thoughts drifted back to the house at the grove, to the image she'd seen in the mirror. She could almost taste it still, warm and earthy.

"Ya gotta eat," Daryl interrupted her and the intensity of his eyes made her feel nervous, "I noticed you losing weight."

There was no argument she could offer, especially because she'd barely noticed the change her body had undergone herself. A few glances in stranger's mirrors here and there, but she'd always thought that what she'd seen were her ghosts.

"Haven't we all?" she asked in return, reluctantly scooping up some spaghetti with her fingers and dropping them into her mouth. "We're lucky if we make a find like this."

He nodded but his eyes kept flickering over her face and she knew that he didn't fully believe her.

The harsh cacophony the thunderstorm created continued outside the window while Carol tried focusing solely on her meal. She had to if she wanted to ensure that her thoughts wouldn't wander and that she wouldn't be sick. She was concentrating so much, in fact, that she didn't notice when he leaned in. The brush of his fingers startled her and she nearly spilled the contents of the can on the mattress.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking uncertain and shy, "ya got a cut."

She set down her meal and then lifted her hand up to feel the area around her temple herself. He nodded when she winced.

"Looks like an abrasion or somethin'."

"Must've happened yesterday," she offered.

In response he pulled a water bottle out of her backpack and then removed all other items that had been standing between them. Scooting carefully closer he moistened the tips of his fingers and then ran them carefully and lightly over her wound. It was futile because the rain had already cooled her skin down but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. The sensation was somewhere between pleasurable and painful. But he looked after her like only very few others had done.

"'m I hurting ya?" he asked nervously.

More of the old familiarity, Carol thought while a serene smile appeared on her face and her heavy lids drifted shut.

"No…" she mumbled, which wasn't entirely true but not a lie either.

She heard him hum before he continued to gently dab at it. Then he pulled away, but she could still feel his eyes dancing over her body. She knew him like she'd once known herself – perhaps even better – he was searching for more injuries that she hadn't reported.

"My shoulder-blade still doesn't feel right but there's little we can do," she informed him, keeping her eyes closed, "and my left shoulder also feels sore now."

She felt his breath graze her face.

It didn't reek of beer.

"Can I?"

Cautiously. Always.

"Mmh…" she hummed and nodded.

He hesitated still for a second or two, but then she felt him tugging her coat over her shoulder. He didn't remove it completely, just allowed it to rest halfway down her arm. Then he tugged her soaked top to the side as well, revealing her skin to him.

"Similar abrasion," he announced, trailing his finger over the pebble-like scabs that had formed there already.

He quickly withdrew his hand again, dipped his fingers into the water bottle and then gently coated her cut with a fresh layer of water.

"I'm glad I made you come with me," he told her and she kept her eyes closed, knowing that this confession would only work while he didn't feel watched, "been doubting that for a while, actually. 'specially yesterday. You said before that you only came to Terminus cause of me. Well, Terminus was a fucking bust. Coulda lost you too…only cause I had to drag ya along. Woulda been on me. Just like Beth."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, the movement of his fingers never stilling.

"Was thinkin' bout myself. Was fucking selfish. Just needed ya to come along. After Rick…I…" he sighed, "reckoned I wouldn't see ya again. Beth saved me. I treated her like shit…after the prison. Jus' so fucking sick of losing people."

It was difficult listening to him and keeping her eyes shut. Every word – no matter how disjointed – seemed to cost him a great deal of effort.

"Went back to being him for a while. Being a Dixon. Treated her like shit. She put up with it as long as she could, then she…" He paused and exhaled. "Oh I dunno what the hell she did but she saved me. Wouldn't be here without her. Wouldn't be the same. 's what I saw in you. Same change. Had already let down Beth, had lost her. Wasn't gonna let the same happen to you. Could've gotten ya killed but I'm glad now…glad I made ya come along."

"I'm glad, too." She smiled and opened her eyes carefully. "And Beth would've been. I didn't mean what I said to you at the lake, Daryl. I wasn't in my right mind. I knew the risks, knew what I was doing accompanying you to Terminus. I let you save me because I think a part of me wasn't ready to give up yet. It's what we do, right?"

She removed his hand from her shoulder and held it in her own, examined the long gash in it that was fresh and barely covered by a bloodied crust, one that she had somehow overlooked in the morning.

"We keep trying."

He nodded almost unnoticeably, his eyes never leaving hers while she guided his hand to cup her cheek.

"You didn't let her down." She tilted her head so she could press her lips to the laceration. "And you didn't let me down either."