Carol sat on the cool infirmary exam table while Nadia removed the splint piece by piece. "This doesn't mean you're healed," she warned Carol. "I'm giving you a new sling for support. Keep wearing it. It will remind you not to use the arm while it's healing fully."

Carol rubbed her arm. It felt good to be free of that contraption.

"I'm going to show you a few mild exercises," Nadia told her. "Remove the sling twice a day, and do these every morning and evening." When they were done with the exercises, and Nadia had showed her how to wear the new sling, the doctor warned, "Don't overdo it. I don't want to have to put you back in the splint."

Carol slid off the table. Nadia helped her into her jacket, a light one, as winter was on its way out. "Yours will be the first wedding we ever have in Alexandria," Carol told her.

"Yes, Lawrence is thrilled to be making history. I'm sure there will be a chapter in his book."

Carol laughed. They talked for awhile about the wedding, which had been preoccupying Carol's mind for some reason she did not fully understand, perhaps because it was such a sign of hope in this bleak world, a sign that all their lives were becoming more settled. Daryl's dismissive attitude toward the whole thing bothered her in a way she didn't quite understand either. She didn't expect him to care about such things, anymore than he cared about parties or social niceties, but it did make her wonder where she stood with him, what, exactly, she was to him. Sometimes she wished they hadn't taken their relationship further. When they were merely friends, there seemed no risk of losing him.

Carol said her goodbyes and headed to the greenhouse. On the way, she passed Michonne, who has was sitting on the stairs of her front porch and sharpening her sword with a stone. They exchanged hellos, and Michonne invited her in for a glass of wine.

"Where'd you get this?" Carol asked. "I thought all the wine rations were exhausted."

Michonne smiled. "Lawrence picked up some bottles from that winery where we spent the night. We gave two to the pantry, I squirreled one away, and I'm guessing Lawrence drank his already."

Carol wasn't sure how she felt about holding things back from the pantry, but she supposed people who risked their lives for these runs deserved an extra cut. She wasn't so sure all Alexandrians would feel the same way, however. They all contributed their particular talents - from washing to cooking to gardening to building to teaching to standing guard - all in exchange for the same cut from the communal pantry. So far, there had been very little complaint about the relative value of their various contributions, or about the size of the rations, but she wondered how long that would last. What happened if someone stopped pulling his or her weight and still expected to be fed? Or when someone demanded he or she deserved a larger share for doing more important work? How would the Council deal with that? The larger the community, and the longer it existed, the less likely communism would work.

"You don't like the wine?" Michonne asked.

Carol shook off her concerns and sipped. "No, it's good."

"It better be, given what we had to go through to get it."

Carol set her glass down. "And what was that?"

"Daryl didn't tell you?"

Carol shook her head.

"Oh. So how about Lawrence and Nadia getting married?"

Carol shot Michonne a don't-even-try look. "Tell me what happened."

Michonne related the story of Cassie.

"So she just crawled into the sleeping bag with him?" Carol asked. "Just like that?"

"More or less," Michonne said. "Daryl isn't bad looking."

"I'm aware," Carol said with a slight smile.

Michonne laughed. "I mean, from a purely physical standpoint. He's not at all my type."

Carol was glad Daryl didn't seem to be anyone's type but hers. At least, she had assumed he wasn't. But if this young, twenty-something girl had been willing to throw herself at him...were their others who might? Hadn't Karen flirted with him at one time? Not that Daryl had been aware of that, and Karen had quickly lost interest when he'd responded monosyllabically, but...people in general were more aware of him than they had been in the beginning of all this, when Carol was the one to like him first.

Carol ran a finger up the stem of the wine glass. "Did you expect Abraham to leave Rosita for Sasha? Did you see that coming when it happened?"

"I don't think anyone expected that but Abraham," Michonne said. "And maybe Sasha."

"You just assume, in a small world like this, that people will stick with whoever they're with. But that's not necessarily what happens."

Michonne poured a little more wine in Carol's glass. "The only woman in Daryl's world," she said, "is you."

[*]

Daryl's arms slipped around her from behind, and Carol jumped, shifting the pan on the burner. A bit of oil sizzled and splashed up but then settled down again. He kissed her neck and murmured, "Smells damn good." That gravelly, masculine voice of his stirred something in her.

"Be ready soon," she told him. "You can go call the others."

"Ya kick that house guest out yet?" he asked. "'Cause I's leavin' on that run tomorrow."

He clearly wanted a goodbye tumble. Her period, which was erratic and short lived these days, had given her an excuse to take a break from the physical, but it had stopped yesterday. She'd needed that space because she was a little frightened by the intensity of her desire for him, and yet also concerned she wouldn't be able to give him all that he wanted physically. She suspected he was accustomed to sexually aggressive and experienced women, and she hadn't learned much confidence in that arena, unlike the way she'd learned, through experience, to slay walkers with courage. "You can come by tonight."

"Yeah?" His voice was close to her ear. He bent and kissed her shoulder. She let go of the pan and reached back to touch his face while he began to nibble her neck. Just as she closed her eyes, the timer beeped.

He let her go.

[*]

Tonight, as they sat up against the headboard of Carol's bed, half turned and kissing one another, Daryl began to unbutton her blouse. Carol put a hand over his hand to stop him. Ed had always criticized her breasts, told her how pathetic they were compared to those of other women, and that was a memory she couldn't shake. Her sling fell right below them. She wasn't wearing a bra. If he took off her shirt, in the light of the bedside lamp, he'd see them all too clearly.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, letting his hand fall down to her hip.

"Nothing...I just like to leave my shirt on."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she lied.

"Wanna see you." He returned his hand to the second button of her blouse and just let it rest there.

She swallowed and nodded.

He slid the button slowly loose. He undid the next button, and then the next. She let him loosen every one, but she looked away when he pulled open her blouse. He eased it partway off her shoulders. Carol could feel the crimson creeping to her cheeks as he sat in silence sweeping his eyes over her chest. She was feeling the old need to make some excuse for herself when he muttered a single word - "Perfect."

She looked back at him and was thrilled by the way his eyes raked greedily over her. Daryl didn't touch her right away. He sat back against the headboard, spread his legs, patted the mattress between them, and said, "C'mere."

Carol slid between his legs and leaned back against his muscular chest. From behind, he cupped her breasts and began to toy lazily with them. "Beautiful," he murmured as he played. "Damn ya feel good." She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his hands and the sound of his breath growing thicker as he kneaded and stroked. When he lightly pinched one of her nipples, she whimpered.

"Ya like that?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed.

He did it again, and she bit her bottom lip to choke back the cry. The fire spread between her legs.

"Don't have to be quiet," he told her, his breath hot in her ear, his lips lightly touching her skin. "Wanna hear ya."

She flushed and tensed, reminded of how Ed had always said she was too quiet - frigid mouse, he'd called her, and that had always made her want to be even more quiet.

Daryl stopped fondling her breasts and put his hands on her shoulders instead. "I say somethin' wrong?"

"No. I'm just...I'm a little shy."

"We moved the bed. Nadia ain't gonna hear."

"It's not that."

"What then?" he asked.

"I just...I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I'm too quiet for you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Quiet ain't never bothered me none. World could use more quiet."

"But you said - "

"- Just want ya to know ya ain't got to hold back." He shifted his head to kiss her ear, where he whispered, "Yer safe with me, Carol."

She shivered. She took one of his hands and put it back on a breast. "Touch me," she told him, and this time, when he pinched, and the pleasure shot through her, she didn't bite down on the sound.

[*]

Daryl gripped Carol's hips tightly to keep her steady as she straddled him, his thumbs making light red marks on her flesh. She had her knees on the bed, and she was moving her hips in slow, hard circles. He closed his eyes, because the sight of her breasts moving as she moved was about to undo him.

Desperate to distract himself from the urge to tumble over the edge, he disassembled a gun in his mind. Then he reassembled it. He started to disassemble it again, but it vanished, the image scattered into particles when Carol moaned his name.

His restraint snapped. There was nothing now to keep his thoughts off the sound and feel of her. They climaxed together, in a collision of waves that left him reeling from the force.

Later, Carol spooned back against him, her now completely naked body pressed to his. Well, almost completely - the sling was still there. In the afterglow of sex, Daryl felt incredibly sleepy, and he was blissfully sliding off into some no man's land when she started talking.

He clawed himself awake.

"I wish I could go with you tomorrow to pick my own dress for Nadia's wedding, but I told Michonne my size."

"Mhmmm."

"I guess it's good I've been growing some flowers in the greenhouse after all. Nadia's going to need a boquet."

"Mhmhm."

"Nadia said Father Gabriel's going to perform the marriage because Lawrence doesn't want to ask one of the monks to do it, given that he renounced his vows for her."

"Mhmhmm."

"You're tired of me talking, aren't you?"

"Like yer voice."

She chuckled. "You just know this is the price you have to pay for getting laid."

He kissed the back of her neck. "'S a bargain."

She rolled a little on her back and looked right at him, which meant he had to keep his eyes all the way open. "I talked to Michonne," Carol said. "She told me an interesting story about what happened to you in that winery near Waynesboro."

Daryl didn't say a word, but he was suddenly more awake.

"Was she pretty? Cassie?"

"I ain't gonna answer that. All you got to know is I ain't touched her. Told her I had a woman."

"Is that how you think of me?" She was searching his eyes. "As your woman?"

Why was she asking that? Was she bothered that he'd said it? Did she not want to be his woman? But she was now, finally, after all these months of quiet wanting. Wasn't she? He felt a sudden sinking sensation in his gut. "Well, what the hell are we doin' if you ain't my woman?"

"It wasn't a complaint. It was just a clarification."

"Fuck is there to clarify?" he muttered. "You ain't...you ain't interested in anyone else. Are ya?"

"No." There was an affectionate laughter in her tone. "I like being your woman, Daryl."

The relief began to sleep slowly through his tense muscles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, and kissed his cheek before rolling back on her side. "I do."

He spooned up closely against her. "Good."

She was talking about the wedding again when he fell asleep.