Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. All characters belong to the creators of the television series and graphic novels.

274 Days

Chapter 1: Then

The walk back toward Hershel's property was quiet and hot. The last days of summer were coming to an end according to the calendar on the wall of Hershel's RV. But according to the weather, it seemed the heat was going to stick around a while. The Georgia humidity made each breath tight and harsh. The crunch of dried leaves under two sets of footsteps beat a steady rhythm to match the heartbeat she could feel in her ears.

One Cherokee rose hung limply from her hand as she walked, while her other hand brushed against his on accident.

He'd taken her out by the pond a good distance from the house, and while she hadn't known what to expect, she knew she was safe with him. And when he'd apologized for snapping at her the way he had that morning, she believed it. It wasn't an empty apology like she was used to from Ed on the rare occasion he wanted something from her. She knew Daryl had a violent past. It was written in the scars on his back. It was evident in the way he'd flinched when she'd kissed his forehead the other night.

Her hand bumped his again, and a strangled sound escaped his lips just loudly enough to get her attention. She glanced at him, and his cheeks were red. Her first thought was he was upset with her, and her first instinct was to apologize.

"Sorry," she said quietly, folding her arms across her chest. Daryl ducked his head a little, and he cleared his throat, unscrewing the cap on his canteen and offering her a drink. "Thanks."

"Getting hot out here," he mumbled. "Gonna be another mile up to the house." He motioned toward an old, pale barn that Carol imagined was once bright red. But the paint had been bleached by the sun and was peeling, but the place looked sturdy. "Wanna take a break?"

"We should probably get back before they send out a search party." A hint of a smile pulled at her lips, and Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow before meeting her gaze.

"Place is safe. Checked it last time I walked past here. No walkers, and it's outta the sun."

"On second thought," Carol sighed, "I could use a break. I feel like I'm baking out here." She took another sip of water, while Daryl opened the barn doors. He did a quick survey of the place before motioning for her to follow him. She was right behind him, slipping into the dim barn. She couldn't help but feel the shiver that ran up her spine when Daryl turned and shut the heavy wooden doors behind them.

Sunlight filtered in from a hole in the roof and shone down on a large pile of hay. It looked inviting and a hell of a lot more comfortable than the ground or even the little bed in the back of Dale's RV.

Somehow, the barn felt a good ten degrees cooler than the outside. Even the gnats and flies weren't buzzing around as much. Carol took another gulp from the canteen and put the cap back on. She offered it to Daryl who took a long drink from it, too. He put the canteen's strap over his shoulder and pulled something out from his vest pocket.

"Think I'm gonna head East and look tomorrow," he explained, walking over to lay the map down on a couple of shelves. He looked over his shoulder, and Carol realized he wanted her to come see. He wanted to bring her in on his plans. It wasn't very often anyone thought to do that. Most days, she felt useless, no help at all to anyone.

"What are these marks here?" Carol asked quietly, stepping up next to him and tracing one of the dark X marks on the paper.

"Places I already looked," he explained. Carol nodded then, and she took a deep breath.

"You should take a few days," she said quietly. "You're still healing."

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Don't see nobody else out there looking, anyway." Carol nodded then, and she swallowed hard, hardly able to believe the words that were about to come out of her mouth.

"I'll come with you." He blinked and drew back slightly.

"What?"

"I want to help. There's more to be done than laundry and cooking," Carol explained. "She's my daughter. I want to help look for her." She silently cursed herself when she felt the tears beginning to brim, but he stiffened her upper lip and swallowed back the lump in her throat. Daryl had just brought her all the way out to see those Cherokee roses, and he so desperately wanted her to believe that something good could still happen. She felt guilty for letting herself still doubt Sophia would ever be found. But if Daryl was going to keep going out there and risking his own life for her daughter, the least she could do was go with him.

"You'd just slow me down," he bristled, reaching to fold up the map. There wasn't anger behind his words. Just frustration. And Carol found herself reaching out to him. She put her hand on his forearm, curling her fingers gently at his wrist. He drew back a little but not enough to pull his arm from her touch.

"I need to learn. If I'm going to survive—if I'm going to help Sophia survive—I have to learn how to take care of myself." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I need…a friend," she choked out. "I need someone who knows what it's like for everybody to look at you with pity but never do a damned thing." Daryl scoffed.

"You don't know a damned thing about me, lady."

"Don't do that." Carol's voice was soft but brave, and she gave his wrist a little squeeze. "I saw the scars, Daryl. Old scars. Older than mine. You know pain like I do. It's an old friend. The only thing that reminded you that you were alone. My scars are a lot newer. But they run deep. Like yours." Daryl swallowed hard, and Carol noticed the way his nostrils flared, and for a moment she thought he'd look at her with disgust and pull away. Instead, he bowed his head a little and nodded.

"You can come, but you gotta keep up." She drew in a breath like a gasp, and Daryl looked back to the map before them. His calloused fingertips traced the line of the trail he planned to search, and Carol's gaze followed his fingers, and she took in every word. Her heart swelled in her chest, and she felt something somewhere deep down mend a little.

She flinched away the tears, being careful to steady her breath so he wouldn't see. If only someone had come along a lot sooner and seen her and wanted to help her the way he was helping now, maybe life would have turned out differently. Still, she carried a fair amount of guilt on her own shoulders for that, for going back to Ed, but for the first time in a long time, it felt as if a bit of that weight was gone, and she stood a little taller.

Daryl glanced at her as she bit back a smile, and she glanced at him. His brow creased, and she knew he probably thought she was crazy to be smiling now. Maybe she was, but it felt good to have found someone in this crazy messed up world that had survived the kind of pain she had. Those kids of people? They were made for this world. When everything felt like it was crumbling, when the pain pushed them to break, something inside of them forged on. Steel in the veins, something. Otherwise, how had she lived this long? How had she not broken? She felt she should have died a dozen times, but she kept on. For Sophia. Sophia had become her purpose from the day she was born, and now, it seemed, Daryl had made Sophia his purpose, for the time being anyway.

She stood at his side now, her arm brushing his when she'd lean over to look at the map as he talked about his plans. The more he spoke, the more confident he sounded, and the more confident he sounded, the more hopeful she felt. Still, he'd look up at her from time to time, and something about the way his eyes darkened and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips had her face flushing with heat and her heart thundering a little faster in her chest.

She'd been told for so long how undesirable she was, how the only reason Ed would touch her was because he didn't have to work for it. She was his wife, and it was his right, and he found every opportunity to remind her of every blemish on her body as if she had any control over it.

When she caught Daryl's gaze shifting from her eyes to her neck and then to the dip in her shirt where she displayed a hell of a lot more than Ed ever would have let her on a hot summer day, she felt a rush of heat between her legs that she hadn't expected. Her lips parted slightly, and she sucked in air, brows raising slightly as sweat began to bead at the back of her neck.

The little Cherokee rose she still held in her hand fell into the hay at their feet. Carol clicked her tongue and moved down to get it at the same time he did, and they nearly fell into each other.

"Shit, sorry."

"Sorry." They both moved to stand at the same time, and seeing the other was moving up, they both moved back down to grab for the flower, this time knocking shoulders. Carol lost her balance and fell back on her butt, and Daryl ended up on his knees at her side.

"Sorry," he muttered again, gently picking up the little flower from the dirt and gently rolling the stem between his fingers. He reached out to hand it to her, and her fingers brushed his. Their eyes locked, and a little smile curled at her lip.

"Thanks," she murmured, as Daryl stood and reached down to help her up. When she stood, her fingers curled around his wrist again, and she was so close she could feel the heat from his body. Her lips parted, and she drew in a shaking breath. Her trembling fingers slipped up his forearm to his bicep, the boldest move she could remember making in the last thirteen years of her life. Half expecting him to pull away considering the way he'd flinched at a mere kiss to the forehead, she was surprised when his hand moved to her waist and held her steady there. Her gaze dragged up his chest and glimpsed his blue eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide.

She placed the little flower on the map and brought her now free hand up to his chest, fingers gently slipping against warm, sweat-slick skin before popping a button as she dared not keep her gaze locked on his.

The way he was looking at her, the way his face was flushed and his gaze was heavy with need and desire was enough to muffle all of the insecurities Ed had beat into her head. Still, she found herself trembling when she tucked her hand into his shirt and slipped her hand up over his shoulder and then the back of his neck.

He groaned softly when her fingernails gently scraped against the hair on the back of hie neck. And when she slid her hand back down to his chest, she could feel his heart hammering there nearly as fast as hers.

"What are we doing?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but before she could wait for a response, he was kissing her. His hands gripped hat her hips, and hers moved up his shoulders and down his back, nails scratching against the fabric of his sweat-damp shirt.

His kisses were hungry, wet, delicious, clumsy. He was kissing her with everything in him, and she could tell he wasn't used to kissing, but he sure as hell knew what he was doing with his hands when he slid them up her sides and down her back before sliding them back to her hips and pulling her closer.

"Daryl." Her voice was soft against his lips, but it was enough to have him jerking back, panting as he put a good foot of distance between them. His fingers twitched as they fell from her hips, and his face was as red as the bandana in his back pocket.

"Wasn't thinking," he murmured, chewing the side of his thumb in a desperate search for something to distract himself with. Carol sucked in a sharp breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. Her body was buzzing from the surge of blood whipping through her veins. Her core throbbed, her heart hammered, and her head was swimmy. Her lips were almost numb from kisses, and when she licked them, she tasted him. The scent of his skin surrounded her, and it was all she could think about. Kissing him sent every worry and fear into the dark to hide for a little while. Maybe it was a little selfish, she thought, but the weight of her troubles had lifted for the briefest of moments, and it was a high she couldn't get enough of.

"Daryl." Her voice was soft, inviting. She reached out, hand stroking his arm and his chest. She curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt, biting her lip and watching the way his jaw tensed with a clench. She curled her fingers a little tighter then, tugging toward her, urging him closer. He took a step forward, and Carol closed her eyes when his hands came up over her bare arms, fingers slipping inside her cut off sleeves. Her hand slipped up his neck and over his cheek, and her eyelids fluttered open long enough to see him looking back at her with the same need she felt streaming through her veins.

Before either of them could take another breath, he was kissing her again in that same hungry, desperate way, and when he pulled her close she could already feel him hard against her hip. She gasped at the sensation, groaning and dragging her fingernails down his back, over the ridges of his scars. Something like a growl tore from his throat, and he turned her around, reached behind her to sweep the map and the little flower off of the cabinet and lifted her up onto it. Her legs instinctively curled around his hips, and when he broke away for a breath, she pulled him down, craning her neck so he could taste her and feel the rush of her pulse against his tongue.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps, and her hands moved down his back and over his hips. When she reached for the buckle on his belt, he grunted and nipped at the skin on her neck. She bit her lip and craned her neck further, but he sought her mouth again, kissing her deeply, nearly stealing the breath from her when his fingers dug into her hips and clawed at the waistband of her pants.

"Ok," she chuckled, equal parts amused and aroused by his desperation. She thought about helping him out of his shirt but she realized there would be no time for that when he tugged her pants down her hips far enough to loop his fingers through her panties and tug them down with one swift motion. "Ok. Ok. Ok." Her words danced over his lips as he kissed her, and while she was reeling at the overload of sensations raging through her body, she was wet and throbbing and aching for him. Whatever the hell happened tomorrow, they both needed this. They both needed this escape. They craved it.

Her hands tugged at his belt, loosening it enough that his pants easily sagged at his hips. At the same time, Daryl had her pants down around her knees, and he grabbed her ankles, tugging off her boots before shucking her pants all the way down her legs. In moments, he stood there, spreading her legs with one hand while he stroked his cock with the other, and there wasn't a hell of a lot of time to actually look at one another. Still, he managed to find the composure to look right in her eyes, a question on his lips that he didn't have time to ask before she was tugging him closer.

"Please, Daryl," she panted. "Please."

He gripped her hips, pulling her closer, and as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he pushed into her, catching her cries against his lips as he kissed her again. His kisses were softer now, slower, but still heavy and hungry, and Carol drank it all in, relishing the pleasure as she stretched around him. He sank into her, slowly now, savoring the way her walls pulsed and fit around him.

"Fuck," he growled out, pulling back as Carol's hands tore at his shirt and urged him closer.

"Don't stop," she panted. "Please, Daryl…please I…" The skin on her thighs was white underneath his grip as he pulled back and pushed deep inside her again. She slumped back against the wall for a moment, until Daryl's hands moved to her arms, bringing them up around his neck. She sighed against his mouth when he kissed her again. The rough stubble on his chin left red splotches against her chin, but it felt too damn good, and as she linked her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer, she let go of everything and just let herself feel.

With each stroke, he brought her closer, and God, she hadn't had an orgasm with a man in so long, for a moment she thought her body was tricking her, but her harder he pushed, the more his tongue did that thing on the side of her neck, the more his hand explored her belly under her shirt, the closer she drew, and when he finally brought her over, he clapped his hand over her mouth to stifle the scream.

The little smirk on his lips was new, and it brought a little edge to her orgasm as she imagined him smirking like that with his head buried between her legs, but maybe—dear God, she hoped—they'd have time for that another time.

Her hands gripped his ass, nails digging in as his thrusts became more rigid and frenzied, and just as she was about to go over the brink another time, his back went rigid, and his breath quickened, and she pulled him down to her for a kiss tightening her legs around his waist. He buried his face against her neck and let out muffled grown against her throat. She could feel him come, warm and wet inside, her walls fluttering around him and she thrust through his own orgasm. And when he stilled atop her, ass bare to the whole barn, Carol brushed her hand gently over his forehead and pressed a kiss there. It was tender, and he caught her eye, face red again making him appear shy and unsure, as if he hadn't just fucked her three ways from Sunday on a rickety old counter in a barn.

He pulled out, and she shivered, sitting up as he straightened up to stuff himself back in his pants. He turned his back to her, as if giving her some privacy, and she swallowed hard, wiping sweat from her face as she shakily tugged her underwear and pants back up.

"You ok?" he asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder.

"I'm good," she offered, a little chuckle to her tone to lighten the mood. "You?"

"Yeah. Good," he said gruffly. She frowned. She hadn't expected Daryl Dixon to be a cuddler, but now she was wondering if he regretted the whole thing. But when he bent and picked up her shoes and gently put them on the counter beside her, he traced his thumb over the side of her hip. Carol brought her hand over his and gave it a squeeze.

Daryl bent down to gather up the map and the little flower, and after Carol finished putting on her boots, she took the little wilting Cherokee rose and playfully tucked it over her ear. Daryl chuckled softly, and Carol stood, smoothing down the front of her shirt.

"Looks good on you."

"Yeah?" she asked, not really needing validation but eager to make the moment last. A little smile briefly quirked at his lips before he put his game face back on. Wiping his hand over the back of his neck, he nodded toward the barn door.

"We best get back."

Author's Note: This could be a stand alone story. I suppose it depends on the reception. Let me know if ya'll want me to continue. Thanks!