AN: Really sorry, everyone, that this one took so long to get written. I'm writing for two characters I've not touched much on so far, and also more smut. **gulps** The smut is in this first section, so if you don't love it, skip along folks! As always, I love your support, and I love to hear your thoughts. Please review!

Part Thirty-Six

She woke to the distinctive sounds of Daryl dressing. He was doing up buttons and shrugging on his vest and then, as she sat up and held the sheet around her naked frame, he grabbed at the strap of his crossbow and made to swing it over his shoulder.

"Daryl?"

He turned but couldn't seem to quite look at her, his gaze burning a hole in the floor. She was out of the bed like a shot, tugging the sheet free of the bottom of the bed and wrapping it around herself so she wouldn't scandalise his renewed sense of modesty.

"Need to fill Rick in on somethin'," he said, the gravelly sound of his voice rubbing her raw with want.

"You weren't goin' to wake me first?" She couldn't hide the shade of dismay or hurt that settled heavily in the room, already feeling ashamed about how much she wanted to be with him and how hard it was to let him go, even if it was just for a little while. Everything was still so new, so uncertain, and it was all Carol could do not to cling to him like some kind of desperado. To shake off this sense of vulnerability that one word could send him running away from her.

He startled, his gaze suddenly glancing off every surface in the room before it finally settled on her, and when it did, he sucked in a trembling breath, his hands squeezing the crossbow strap as he held it across his shoulder.

"Is that somethin' I should be doin' from now on? Tellin' you when I'm headin' out? I ain't leavin' the house, just need to talk to Rick an' Shane." He sounded so unsure, so confused about what he was supposed to be doing, how he was supposed to be acting, that Carol felt a little of her worry slide.

The little boy lost look he embraced almost broke her heart. She placed her palm against his cheek, melting as stunning blue eyes focused squarely on her and he drifted a little closer instinctually. "It's not sometin' you have to do, just maybe I'd like to see you before you leave, give you somethin' to make you want to come back," Carol said, speaking so low he had to bend closer to hear her, and as he did she seized the opportunity to press her lips against his. He balked, dragging himself back, then seemed to become more aware of his actions and abruptly dropped his crossbow before embracing her fully, planting hot, hungry kisses from her lips, along her jaw and to her earlobe.

Dancing around her lust for so long made Carol feel a little bit crazy, so, with her nails lightly scratching a path up his neck to rake through Daryl's hair, Carol seized his mouth again and put every single ounce of energy and want into showing him how she felt, knowing the words would spill out if she was given half the chance and desperate to keep him right where he stood and not bolting for what was on the other side of the door. The words could break a boundary that still stood between them, and as much as Carol wanted to banish every single wall either of them had erected, it wasn't up to her to tear it all down on her own—Daryl had to meet her half way.

An arm snaked around her middle and he jerked her awkwardly against him, the sheet slipping low down her back now that neither of her hands were actively trying to keep it in place. It didn't matter, only added to the genuine escalation of the moment. His mouth was warm, heating her from the inside out as the cool air settled across her naked shoulders. Barely aware of anything but the taste of him washing over her, Carol skimmed her hands over his chest and pushed the vest off his shoulders, whimpering as it fell to the floor. He gently bit her bottom lip as her fumbling fingers dealt with the buttons on his shirt, and then she felt his bare flesh against her palms as his shirt fluttered after the vest. Her thumbs rubbed impulsively over his nipples and he shuddered, his kiss devouring her as the intensity increased. Her head felt fuzzy, but not fuzzy enough to not notice when he yanked the sheet from her body the same moment his mouth left a scorching path down her throat. His lips settled around one nipple, sucking the dusky areola into his mouth with an insistent pressure that, added to the extreme sensitivity of pregnancy, sent a stinging bolt of pain and pleasure zinging through her veins. Her nipples throbbed, both of them, and then sensation swarmed across her flesh like millions of tiny pinpricks as Daryl rested the palm of his large hand right across her belly. He sucked and nibbled at her breasts, his teeth scraping across each nub again and again, leaving Carol whimpering as the hand against her belly massaged it gently then slipped to explore between her legs.

His middle finger rubbed shallowly along her slit, bouncing gently against her clit and there was nothing Carol could have done to hold in the broken moan that warred with her for release, or stop the frantic clutching of his head as he licked and sucked her to the edge. Barely able to make her legs work, she shuffled back and half fell, half crawled back onto the bed, her flesh buzzing with life. Daryl didn't let up, his mouth relentlessly worshipping her swollen breasts, his fingers tracing complex paths around and over her nub, gathering her moisture and spreading it against her, allowing his finger to pass rapidly over her clit. Carol was gasping, the sensation so new and unexpected that her brain was exploding with messages of what she needed to do first. In a flurry of desperation, her hands unfastened his pants, pushing them from his hips even as the first sparks seem to drill through her defences, followed by pure, searing fire that shot through her body and connected to every starved cell.

Gentleness flew from her mind as Carol pounced, dragging Daryl's head up with a rough yank of his hair. Their kiss was blistering passion as his body pushed her back, adrenaline thundering through her veins as at last he pushed into her, stretching her, her body moulding perfectly around him as he settled inside deep. His stroke was sure and strong, sliding beautifully against her until Carol nearly believed she was floating, a strange sensation when she was sure she was almost hyperventilating with lust. His pace increased and she became hyperaware of the light hair smattering his thighs as it tickled against her soft flesh, of how deeply he reached inside her, how wide her most intimate parts expanded to accommodate him, how his eyes burned the hottest blue as he tore himself from her lips and stared deeply into her, his hips thrusting in time to a rhythm he'd invented just for them. She gasped and ground against him, building up to an extension of her earlier pleasure. When warmth sparked deep in her womb, the rush of it building and fighting to find release, her eyes widened and she shuddered, bucking her hips up sharply before she shut her eyes in shock. Then he was plunging into her, longer, drawn out thrusts until his muscles stiffened he spilled into her suddenly, his hips still jerking in response. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. Carol gently pushed against his chest and they rolled totheir sides, gazing at each other with a mirrored expression of shock.

Daryl broke out of it first, shaking his head and then planting an abrupt, short kiss on her shoulder.

"If that's how you're plannin' to encourage me to come back, I ain't sure I should ever try'n leave."

Carol giggled, her face flushed and sweat settling between her breasts. "You won't be gettin' any arguments from me."

"Really do need to go tell Rick somethin', though. You okay if I go?" He didn't wait for her answer, already standing and shucking back on his clothing, Carol flushing pink as she realised his pants had barely made it to his knees, his boots still in place. She blushed hard, scrambling to relocate her sheet and trying to cover herself up with it. A mischievous twinkle in his eye made her stop mid-tuck and his knuckles brushed against her breast.

She gasped and stood up fast, winding one hand into his hair at the nape of his neck while her other tried to hold the sheet against at least half of her body.

"What is it you have to go tell Rick?" She was hoping he'd forget all about Rick when his gaze flared and his hand opened to cup her breast. He swallowed hard, and Carol watched, captivated, at the smooth, tanned flesh of his throat as it flexed. Before he could open his mouth to speak she'd dived for it, taking a sample between her teeth and sucking on it gently, her tongue swirling against him.

"Fuck. You ain't nothin' but trouble. I gotta go tell Rick what I found in the woods."

Sense seemed to return to her slowly, an intuition that what he had found in the woods was something important that the others should be told about as soon as possible. It just hurt to let him go. If he stayed in her arms she felt no fear, felt no concern that he'd never come back.

"Okay," Carol conceded huskily, moving back until she was far enough away that she'd not try to seize another touch from him. "We still need to talk about things, mainly Sophia, but go talk to Rick."

His eyes shot wide at the mention of Sophia. "She's all right, ain't she? Did Merle do somethin'? I'll kill him. What'd he do?" He was a whirlwind of activity, grasping his shirt and vest off the floor and shrugging them back on, his crossbow resting against his back before Carol could even blink stupidly at the change from tentative lover to confident hunter. It was the mesh of strong and soft that had won her, but now she saw just how hot it was as well.

He stood in front of her, obviously waiting for an answer, and Carol couldn't remember what they were talking about. "Huh?"

He smirked, his finger raised to stroke a gentle line down her cheek as his lips settled a breath from hers. "Sophia," he exhaled, and Carol burned at the reminder, feeling shamed that during her lust she'd forgotten all about her daughter.

"Oh." She glanced up, pecked his lips then took a hesitant step backward. "She…might have expressed doubts about you and me together."

As soon as his face fell, his light spirit crashing rapidly to be replaced with a frown, Carol wished she'd never brought the subject up. Not pausing to think, knowing that if he left the room his bad mood would end up extending to any talk he had with Rick, she threw herself into his arms and wound herself up tight around him, holding on for all she was worth.

"She hates me," he said, sounding so defeated that Carol couldn't stop the tears that sprung to his defence.

"She doesn't know you, Daryl. She doesn't know what you did for her—only what Merle did. You're both good men, better than anyone has ever bothered to see before. Just give her time and she'll see you like I do."

He refused to look at her, burying his face in her shoulder as arms as rigid as steel held her to him. "An' if she don't?"

"Then my daughter is blind. Don't wind yourself up in knots about it, okay? Everything will be fine."

His palm settled against her belly and Carol sucked in a shocked breath, a heady sense of reality stabbing into her heart. "I have to get you someplace safe. Shane said—"

"Shane said a lot of things today. I think we need to step back for a bit and just let things settle. Worry about things when they happen."

Daryl jerked back, irritation plainly obvious in the twist of his mouth. He pressed against her belly, shaking his head. "This already happened. Too late to worry about shit after it goes all to fuck. We need a plan now, an' I'm workin' on it. Gotta go talk to Rick."

She could see she wasn't going to distract him again, nodding sadly as she let him go. "Okay, go talk. I'll be out soon to help Patricia with dinner."

He nodded, kissed her deeply on the lips and then left, his back straight and confident. Carol missed him already.

She'd always loved being outside at night, watching the stars as they first appear and then sparkle like glittering jewels against the darkness. It reminded her of her mother singing to her as a child, of the laughter that had always taken hold of her house, of Sunday family dinners and peach cobblers and Saturday night dates with Jimmy and…

Her cheeks were cold and wet by the time the memories began to wind down, silent sobs making her shoulders shake. There was an ache in her chest that, no matter what she tried to do, just wouldn't go away. It hurt so much that sometimes she thought it was actually physical, and she wondered if she should let her daddy know in case there was something he could do. Most of the time, though, she knew it was a hurt that existed so deep inside of her that she wasn't ever going to get it out.

She was so lonely, now. Maggie had Glenn and her daddy seemed to always be talking with Rick or Shane or Patricia, and even Carl had Sophia, and they were too young for her anyway. She was the only one who had no one to talk to, no one her own age who understood how she felt. No one who could help her get through this and find something to hope for in this horrible world.

Being in this place, this house, just made everything worse. It was so similar to her home, the one that was now probably destroyed by disgusting walkers that couldn't seem to stay out of anything. She wondered if they'd made it inside, if they'd managed to climb the stairs and trample through her room. If they'd slaughtered all the chickens and cows and stomped down all the garden beds. She wondered if the marker for her mom's grave still stood, Sean's, and she wondered if they'd left anything of Jimmy behind that they could have buried, if they hadn't had to run so desperately before they lost their own lives.

It was getting harder to breathe as her cries became more desperate, her need to keep herself quiet almost impossible. She couldn't let anyone know, though. Couldn't let anyone know how much she hurt, because then they'd all just hover around her forever, never leave her alone in case she tried to kill herself again. Wary of drawing any attention to herself, Beth drew up her knees and tried to push herself further into the shadows of the house. Andrea was on watch and Beth really didn't think she was very good at it, not seeing her at all as she'd snuck out of the house. It made her cry harder, knowing for sure now that she was invisible. Maybe she should just do it. This world was miserable—there was no laughter here anymore. Nothing here for her. No, that was just stupid. There was plenty of love still here—she could see it despite how hard she tried to squeeze her eyes shut against it. Even though they had little time for her, her daddy and Maggie both loved her more than anything else, and the relationships forming between the whole group showed her the new form of family. She was just so tired, tired of running and being scared all the time. Tired of having no one to soothe her through all the misgivings, all the death.

"Come on now, Beth. You know you shouldn't be out here. A walker could snap you up for dinner an' no one'd even know it."

Beth jumped to her feet, spinning to find Shane standing in front of her, appearing a little sheepish at how he'd snuck up and scared her silly. He saw her tears, then, and the tentative smile on his face completely dropped away as he reached forward and wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with his thumb.

"You're right," she admitted, feeling shaky from the fright he gave her but weird at how he was touching her face. "I should be gettin' back inside. Daddy's probably missin' me by now."

"What's wrong? We're safe for right now, in this place. Nothin' to be sad about." He seemed so genuine that Beth couldn't stop herself from starting to cry all over again. The tears never seemed to completely go away, her throat always aching with the lump in there that just seemed to grow larger every day.

"I don't know," she snuffled around a sob and then gave in completely as Shane folded her into his arms, his hand running reassuringly over her back. They stood quietly together for a few minutes before Beth could see Andrea start to head back to her starting point. She shrank back into the shadows, Shane moving with her by default. He seemed to understand immediately that she didn't want to be seen, and so took her hand and quickly led her around to the back of the house, a knife in his hand in case they surprised a stray walker.

Now that Andrea was back at the porch, talking would be overheard, so Beth watched him, knowing her eyes betrayed all her fear at being caught outside when she wasn't meant to be. She didn't know Shane very well, only that he was a bit unpredictable and hot-headed, but from what she'd seen, he seemed to really care about keeping them all safe, and what she needed right now was faith that someone actually gave a damn about protecting her. He seemed to understand her need to just be without being told a word, his hand squeezing hers firmly as he sat beside her against the wall of the house, both of them staring out into the night as if waiting for it to do something significant other than turn back into day.

They must have sat there for close to an hour when Beth started to feel her eyelids droop. She'd catch herself slipping sideways, her head resting against Shane's shoulder for mere seconds before she would jerk upright once again, testing each time that he still held her hand, that his other hand still clasped the knife, and then she'd go through the whole process again.

Eventually, he stood, dragging her up with him.

"Come on." He replaced his knife, flattening his hand on her back as he lightly pushed her in the direction of the porch steps, an absent Andrea obviously back to doing her rounds. Before they'd left the dark shadows created by the moon, he dropped her hand, smiling reassuringly at her as they climbed the stairs together. He nodded at her as he left her in the front room, and Beth watched him move away, her brow crinkled in confusion. She never thought any of them would take any time for her, except for Maggie when Maggie wasn't already busy doing something else.

There was enough activity going on in the house that Beth was easily able to move around and find something to do that meant she was out of the way of the others. She found Lori folding their laundry, the hard, crisp clothes now clean but not exactly soft on their skin anymore. This was a good chore, thought Beth. This meant she could stay quiet, could watch everyone as they milled about finding their own things to do, or worried about their own problems.

She was startled when Daryl came bounding down the stairs, his steps making a loud thudding sound that caused her nerves to stretch tight. Sitting outside with Shane had calmed them down earlier, but the serious set of his face and the determined stride he used to burn up the space struck her back into that frame of mind from earlier, that she was about to lose everything that being in this farmhouse had promised to return to her.

"Rick. Shane. Need to talk."

The men looked to Daryl, shared a questioning look before shrugging and following him as he stomped through to the kitchen. Beth concentrated hard on keeping her feet still, despite the desperate urge she had to run right back outside. Shane was too preoccupied to come and get her again and next time she might not end up so lucky.

He'd been sitting at the kitchen table for going on an hour. At first it made her smile, thinking she'd caught his interest in some mysterious way, but now she could see the signs of a man that was staying put because he'd fallen deep into his own thoughts. He hadn't even looked up at her the whole time she'd been bustling about him, not even when she'd placed a glass of water and a bowl of the stew she'd cooked up for dinner. They'd sacrificed a chicken for this meal, and Patricia's mouth was salivating to try some. Figuring she'd rather sit there quietly with him and try some of her stew than leave him to ponder the state of the world on his own, she pulled out a chair across from him and waited.

He glanced up briefly before picking up his own spoon and took his first, experimental bite. Merle nodded in approval and set to scooping up more of his dinner with such a ferocity that Patricia was convinced he suspected someone was going to come in and take it off him. She laughed, finding the action cute in a way she was terrified he might ask her to explain.

"It's good." The raspy sound of his voice brushed over her skin like a calloused touch. She could imagine it vividly and lowered her eyes hastily before she embarrassed herself by being any more obvious.

"Thank you." She felt happy, Patricia realised. She'd always known purpose in her life, being Hershel's veterinary nurse, but when the walkers had started to come and people stopped needing things like vets and had all but gone into hiding, she'd found herself floundering. Otis had only been able to scare away some of her fears of dying—of ending up like Hershel's wife and step-son, and it wasn't like she'd needed to step in as a mother figure, because Beth and Maggie were pretty much grown and not inclined to take much notice of her as anything but a long-time family friend. She'd preferred it that way, actually. She'd not wanted to step on toes, take over in any way at all that would make the girls nervous or resentful of her presence.

Losing Otis had been a blow she'd not been expecting. It was stupid—she'd been stupid not to know it would happen eventually. He was the only one of them that went out there—hunting down their food, though they'd had plenty with the cows and chickens the farm had offered. He was bringing back walkers, more and more of them toward the end. A couple of hens had become less likely to satisfy the walkers locked away in the barn, and she'd known that, too. The whole memory of it seemed so remote now, like it had happened to someone else. There was too much going on around them now, too many things that were just too outrageous, too fantastical for her simple brain to sometimes process as reality. And now, here she was, on another farm, in another house cooking meals and finding happiness wherever she can get it.

Patricia looked at Merle, his bowl now empty and his narrowed blue eyes drilling holes into the table top as he thought furiously about something. He didn't scare her, though she's sure that once, probably not so long ago, he probably would have. Exposure to his brother had given her as much of a warning as she'd needed, however, and so any attempt from Merle Dixon to put her into a fluster or cause her to fear him had next to no impact.

She caught his eye once when she finished and went to claim his bowl to put in the sink. As she stood and his eyes followed her, creating the first of moments she'd hoped to create between them, Daryl marched in, his crossbow dropping to the table with a brutal thump.

"Jesus, Bro. Was you brought up in a barn or somethin'? Get your weapon off the damn table."

Daryl blushed, sweeping the crossbow to the floor just in time to catch Rick and Shane's chuckle as they came into the kitchen after him. All four men sat around the table and Patricia set a bowl of steaming chicken stew in front of each of them along with a glass of water before finding her way out of the room. There was something in Daryl's eye that said he wanted her gone so they could talk, and so she left, wondering what on earth was going to go wrong for them this time. Wondering why it was always the men that had the big talks while the women sat around cooking their stew.

Daryl waited impatiently, taking in Shane's stunned look and Rick's shudder of relief as his head suddenly came to rest in the cup of his hands. And Merle…his brother slammed his hand down on the table and laughed uproariously.

"Holy fuck. You gotta be kiddin' me. Trust you to go an' find Jesus when the world's up and gone to Hell." Merle banged the table again, obviously finding the whole irony of the Dixon's finding a refuge in God's house—of sorts—to be almost all he could stand. "You been prayin' or some shit like that you ain't been tellin' me about?" he asked, his grin still so wide that all his teeth shone in the lamp light set up around the kitchen. "You're havin' a pretty fine day, little brother. A good woman, a kid on the way and now you've found probably the most perfect place for us all to bed down and make a go of it. Come 'ere."

Daryl looked alarmed as Merle leapt to his feet and reached across the table to rub his knuckles roughly against Daryl's head.

"Cut that out." Daryl shoved his brother away, his hand rubbing the sore spot where Merle's knobbly knuckles had probably worn a groove into his skull.

"Just want some of your good luck to rub off on me." Merle cackled again, flopping back in his chair as the other two surrendered to his good mood.

Shane was shaking his head, his usually stressed expression relaxed with Daryl's news. "Man, you're dreamin'. Ain't none of us gonna get lucky again once everyone hears about this. They'll all be wantin' to rub Daryl's head."

Rick's snort of laughter annoyed Daryl, but then he couldn't seem to banish the good feeling that was suddenly building up inside him. He'd done good—he'd not run from Carol and his baby, he'd found them somewhere potentially safe to ride out this horror nightmare, and he'd put everyone in fine spirits to boot. They were eating chicken, for fuck's sake. After months trying to deal with the breakdown of the world as they'd come to know it, they were eating chicken and had the possibility of finding a haven behind the high, stone walls of a commune, promising them all their own little homes. Promising them life after getting used to one rapid death after another as they fought to survive.

Daryl bit his lip, chewing it nervously as he eyed the door and the stairs that led back up to the room he'd spent the last few hours in. He knew better than to trust in things that seemed so perfect—things that seemed to be the answer to all their prayers. Things were going too well for him, for him and Carol—even for the group. They'd had hardly any casualties recently and while he was going to fight with everything he had to protect the group, he had to make Carol his top priority—Carol, Sophia and Merle. They were his family and he wasn't going to let anything happen to them. He was the one who'd brought this news to the table, who had seen it for what it was—the chance that it was, the hope that it gave them all—but something about it still made him uncomfortable. Something that didn't quite sit right.

"We need to go check it out in the morning," Rick said, all of them arrested by the sunny smile on his face, the alleviation of the dark bags that had taken up residence under his eyes. This promise of hope seemed to shake off a level of Rick's crushing sense of responsibility, and Daryl thought that was at least a good thing.

Daryl just hoped this discovery didn't bite them in the ass.