AN: OK, this is going to be built off the oneshot that I wrote from a prompt that cool-avaspuppies sent me on Tumblr. I'll be leaving the first two up as oneshots, as well, but the rest I'll simply collect here without posting them separately. These will all be stories/pieces from the same universe, but I'm going to maybe try something a little different and do it a bit more in episodes. (I'm going to play around with it.) Some may involve flashbacks of sorts.

Thanks to freefromthecocoon for the title idea.

I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

"I gotta pee pee."

If Daryl had heard those words once in his life, he'd heard them a thousand times. Normally, they were words that he welcomed hearing. They were proof that Poppy was getting the hang of this potty-training thing—and she was.

Daryl had been so serious about helping Poppy to potty train that he'd bought a little potty to carry around in the car for emergency by-the-road pit stops. He scouted every store, the moment they arrived, so he knew exactly which direction to rush in when Poppy's alarm sounded. He had practically been training for the hundred-yard dash since Poppy got her first pair of pretty pink princess panties and promised she'd do her best not to pee or poop in them—and Daddy had been supporting her every step of the way.

It was Halloween night, though, and the biggest candy-dispensing neighborhood in town had required that everyone park their cars in a field not far from the entrance of one of the main streets and walk in. It cut down on vehicle traffic, and it made it safer for the tiny superheroes, princesses, goblins, and other assorted famous figures and spooky specters to run around and celebrate the night, hyped up on sugar, while they filled their bags with sugar-sodden cavity-causing treats.

Daryl had no problem with the protocol, and he liked the idea that Poppy, when she was older and ready to come off the leash that Daryl thought paired well with her "spotty puppy" costume, could run around safely with the other children. In reality, of course, Poppy was mostly ready to run around with them now. It was her daddy who was a little reluctant to face the absolute terror of losing his little one in a sea of knee-high strangers.

Maybe next year, he'd told himself as much as he'd told Poppy, she wouldn't have to wear the leash.

The parking protocol, however, meant that Daryl didn't have a potty to offer Poppy when she sounded the alarm that she needed one. Daryl knew that meant that the clock was winding down. Poppy tried really hard, and she was very proud of her potty-training status, marked as it was by stickers on the calendar on the fridge that showed her progress and proudly illustrated each accident-free day, but she was still very small, and she didn't always know that she needed to go until going was practically imminent.

Poppy had adamantly refused to swap her panties for a pull-up this one time, and at Daryl's repeated insistence, she'd dissolved into a mess of tears that had threatened to ruin Halloween. Daryl had decided not to fight that battle, and now he wished that he had. If Poppy wet her pants and, consequently, her puppy costume, she was going to be inconsolable and trick-or-treating was going to come to soggy, urine-soaked, screeching halt.

"Daddy, I gotta pee pee."

"I heard'ja Poppy," Daryl insisted. He had already scooped her up to make it faster to move with her. The problem was, he had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. He wasn't going to make it back to the truck. No matter how fast he ran, he wouldn't beat the timer on Poppy's bladder without qualifying for an Olympic medal. For a brief moment, he considered letting her go in someone's bushes. This was one of the nicer neighborhoods, though, and the place was crawling with people and the police patrol that was trying to make sure that things were safe. He would absolutely get caught. He'd probably get fined, at least. And he hated to ruin Poppy's first trick-or-treating with her first warning from the cops.

Finally, feeling more desperate with the heightened sounds of desperation in his toddler's voice, Daryl darted for the next house. He rushed up the steps, happy to find a woman handing out candy and cooing over some bumble bees and one transformer. He hoped the fact that she was a woman would mean that she would understand things like not wanting to wet princess panties and puppy costumes.

"Hello!" The woman said, smiling broadly at Poppy. "Aren't you a cute puppy!"

"I gotta pee pee!" Poppy declared loudly and desperately.

Daryl winced at the woman's completely surprised expression.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said. "But—she's gotta go, an' we're just really gettin' the hang of this potty-trainin' thing an' if she wets her pants, it's gonna ruin the whole night. Could we please…please…use your bathroom?"

"Oh," the woman said. It wasn't a bad kind of "oh," though, and it wasn't a horrified kind of "oh." Instead, she simply tossed candy quickly into the buckets of a few kids, waved off a few others with the apology that she was done for a few minutes, and she opened her door. She waved Daryl quickly inside her home and switched off her porch light to keep the tiny candy-grabbing gremlins from piling up on her porch.

"The bathroom's just right down the hall," she announced, leading Daryl to it. He followed her, as quickly as he could, and tossed a fast thanks at her as he closed the door and got Poppy out of her costume as quickly as possible. Luckily, the manufacturer of the costume had thought about this kind of thing, and it had the quick release snap bottoms that were reminiscent of her baby onesies and all her smallest pajamas.

"I'ma fall," Poppy whined as Daryl balanced her on the toilet seat.

"You ain't gonna fall," Daryl assured her. "I ain't goin' nowhere, and I got you. Go ahead an' go."

It took Poppy a moment to relax. Once—just once—Daryl's brother Merle had taken Poppy to pee when his wife, Andrea, had been busy with something else. Merle hadn't realized that when tiny bottoms slid back far enough to reach the opening of a big potty, they were also apt to keep on sliding. This landed Poppy in a not-really-dangerous-but-certainly-not-comfortable position that had nearly traumatized her and had set potty training back at least a few weeks. At home, she had a special Poppy-sized toilet lid, and she had another at her aunt and uncle's house, but Poppy required assistance whenever she had to potty on a grown-up potty elsewhere.

This lady's bathroom—decorated with calming colors, relaxing smells, and a picture of the sea over the toilet—did not have a seat that was the special size suitable for Poppy.

Poppy relaxed after a moment, though, and trusted that her daddy was true to his word. She brushed Daryl's hair with her fingers while she peed—a practice she found far more mood-enhancing than he did, and then, for good measure, she informed him, in far fewer and more blunt words, that she found the nice lady's bathroom so relaxing that she must also take care of other needs of nature.

When Poppy had cleared everything out of her system that she possibly could, she assumed the position for Daryl to wipe her and, once she was clean, she waited while Daryl washed his hands and dressed her again. Then, Daryl helped Poppy to wash her own hands.

Daryl felt every bit as relieved as Poppy must have felt—maybe more. As they left the little bathroom, he looked for the woman who owned the house. He didn't have to look far. She was waiting, standing in the living room. With his senses relaxing, Daryl was able to take in the house for the first time. It was warm and comfortable. Everything about it felt relaxing and inviting. He felt, immediately, like he'd like to curl up on the couch and take a nap.

He noticed the woman for the first time, too. Almost immediately, he felt his face grow warm. His initial thought was that she was, simply, very pretty in an understated kind of way. She was the kind of woman who was pretty, but was clearly not trying to be pretty. Something about her simply radiated out like the warm comfort of her home.

She was dressed in loose jeans, a slightly baggy sweatshirt, and she had, from what Daryl could tell, no makeup on at all. She looked, like her home, comfortable and inviting, and Daryl was ashamed to say that his brain offered up the idea that he wouldn't mind inviting her to curl up on the couch with him when he went to take that nap.

Daryl did his best to shake it out of his mind. He didn't look at women. He didn't think about women. Poppy's mother had really thrown him off his feet, and he'd sworn that he didn't need women—he wasn't even interested in them—not after what she'd done to him. And he'd done pretty well. Since Poppy had been born, he'd never really even noticed a woman as anything more than just a human being.

He couldn't help but notice this woman, though. Something about her was simply inviting.

And her eyes were beautiful. They were every bit as blue as the water in the beach scene hanging in her bathroom. They, like everything else about her, were relaxing and inviting.

Daryl's whole body felt warm to the point that he almost felt like he was starting to sweat.

"Thank you," he stammered out.

"Crisis averted?" She asked, her lip curling upward in a smile.

Jesus. He shouldn't think that her smile was that damn incredible. He shouldn't find it so fucking hard to swallow when he didn't even know her name.

And he shouldn't ask her name, but bless his outgoing little child for all her enthusiasm and the fact that, safe in the company of her trusted relations, she hardly ever met a stranger. Poppy enthusiastically rushed to the woman and hugged her leg like she'd known her forever. The woman looked thrilled as she bent down to put herself more at Poppy's level.

"Yeah—crisis averted. Thanks. We're workin' on the potty-trainin' thing and…it's a big deal to Poppy that she don't wet her pants," Daryl said.

"Oh—it is a big deal!" The woman declared, speaking to Poppy. Poppy smiled at her. "I bet you're doing so good at potty training!"

"I'm Poppy," Poppy said. Daryl hoped the woman could understand her. He could understand her, and his brother and sister-in-law could understand her, but he knew that not everyone spoke Poppy's particular brand of toddler English.

"I'm Carol," the woman said, smiling at Poppy.

"And I'm Daryl," Daryl offered.

Carol straightened herself back up. She looked at Daryl with those piercing blue eyes, and he was certain that her house was warmer than he'd noticed before. He almost wanted to ask her how it was that she was tolerating that sweatshirt she was wearing—but that would have made him face the fact that at least some small piece of his brain was imagining inviting her to take it off to be more comfortable.

"Poppy—that's an unusual name," Carol said.

Daryl smiled.

"Poppy—can you tell the nice lady your whole name? Your big name?"

Poppy looked at Daryl and grinned.

"I'm Penelope Ann Dixon," she declared. Except, of course, when Poppy said her name, it didn't exactly come out the way that it did when someone else said it.

"I'm sorry?" Carol asked, directing her question toward Daryl.

"Penelope Ann Dixon," Daryl said.

"Oh—I'm an Ann!" Carol said, leaning down to direct her comment to Poppy who was, at this moment, going through the pumpkin of candy that Daryl had passed to the woman on his way in the door and, honestly, had forgotten about until now, when Poppy, at the end of her bright pink tether, had found it sitting by the door. She wasn't eating the candy. Instead, she was pulling it out of the pumpkin and sorting it on the floor. "I'm Carol Ann and you're Penelope Ann."

Poppy looked pleased with that. She looked at Daryl for confirmation and raised her eyebrows at him. It was all she needed to communicate her thoughts to him.

"I heard," he said.

He started to say that it was time to go. He started to tell her to stop sorting her candy and put it back in the pumpkin shaped bucket. He started to say that they should go and leave the poor woman alone so that she could hand out candy and, probably, settle in for a relaxing evening in her warm and inviting home.

But something in him was inexplicably reluctant to leave the presence of the woman named Carol Ann that he'd only just met, so he didn't say any of that. Carol straightened herself back up. There was a hint of a smile on her lips and a hint of color to her cheeks.

"Penelope is no less unusual than Poppy," Carol said.

Daryl glanced at the girl. She was paying them no attention at all.

"Was one of the only things her mama gave her," Daryl said. "It was her grandmother's name, or an aunt's name. Somethin' like that. Poppy was born, she got her name put on her birth certificate. Her mama and me weren't really together—it was complicated—but I come the next day to pick her up an' get 'em settled at her house. Hospital had Poppy ready, but she'd signed the papers to turn over complete custody to me. Disappeared. No forwarding address and, by the time I got to her house, she was gone with most of her stuff. I never looked too hard for her. I figured she made herself clear. The hospital staff asked me what I wanted to do. I could sign the papers, too, and leave. I left all right, but I took Poppy with me." Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't have another name, and a name is just a name, so we kept it."

"You're a single father?" Carol asked.

"Daddy," Daryl said, nodding his head. "I don't care for the word father."

"Poppy seems very lucky," Carol said.

"You might be the first person that's ever said that when I told 'em about Poppy," Daryl said. "Most of 'em say—poor thing. She won't be OK without a mama."

"Oh—I think she looks like she's doing OK," Carol said. "If you don't mind my saying it."

"I don't mind anything you say," Daryl said. It came out far more dreamily than he'd meant, and he embarrassed himself when he heard the quality of his own voice. He felt his face run warm, and Carol's ran a little pink, too, but she didn't run away screaming. "Sorry," Daryl managed.

"Please—don't be," Carol said. "I only meant that—having an unloving parent is worse than not having a parent at all. Believe me. I know."

Daryl's stomach tightened. There was something that came over the woman. It washed over her like a quick wave of cold water that almost made Daryl shiver. Like a wave, though, it was gone as quickly as it came. The hint of sadness on her features melted as she turned and, observing Poppy, smiled again.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "You're right about that."

"I should let you get her back to trick-or-treating," Carol said. "I wouldn't want her to miss her big night."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "She'll—probably hit about ten more houses before she's ready to pass out."

"Well—at least let her hit this house," Carol said with a wink. Daryl's heart skipped a beat with the quick closing and opening of her eye.

Carol brought her big bowl of candy to Poppy and leaned down. Confronted with far more candy than she already had in her little pumpkin, Poppy's eyes got big.

"Trick or treat," Carol said. "What do you like?"

Poppy eyed the candy greedily. Daryl wasn't going to let her eat all of her Halloween candy—at least not without spreading it out over probably the next month and a half—but she was already dreaming of eating all the candy she wanted without limitations.

"Pick one, Poppy," Daryl warned, already imagining her diving head-first into the bowl and grabbing like a candy-snorting goblin.

"Pick one for each hand," Carol amended. "If that's OK with your daddy."

Poppy glanced at Daryl.

"That's fine," he said.

Poppy reached one hand in and picked a piece of candy. She didn't know what all the candy was, and she would likely pick things she wouldn't like, but Daryl was letting her have the full experience. Carol took her other hand and directed it to the bowl.

"Now one for this one—what about…do you like these? These are chocolate. They're my favorites."

Poppy agreed that Carol had made a good choice. She took the piece offered to her and then Carol pointed to her pumpkin.

"Why don't we put them in there, so you don't lose them? Here—let me help you put your treats in your pumpkin, so you can get more."

Daryl watched as Carol helped Poppy put all her treats back into the pumpkin. He watched as Poppy laughed at the woman when their hands bumped each other as they shoveled candy back into the plastic container. Something tugged in Daryl's chest.

Without any reason or explanation, Daryl got the strange sensation that the two of them were, somehow, missing each other.

And, maybe, he was missing something too.

Carol straightened up.

"What'cha say, Poppy?" Daryl asked. "For the candy and the potty?"

Poppy reached her arms up to Carol, and Carol picked her up, plastic pumpkin and all, and balanced her against her hip. For a split second, she closed her eyes and leaned toward Poppy with an expression that was oddly peaceful yet pained. It gave Daryl a lump in his throat that he didn't understand; it was simply naturally occurring. Carol immediately opened her eyes and brushed the expression away by putting on a big smile for Poppy's benefit.

Daryl thought about scolding Poppy that he'd meant for her to say "thank you," but something in his gut made him wonder if she had. Poppy had a way, sometimes, of simply knowing what people needed.

Poppy smiled at Carol and petted Carol's hair—a beautiful silvery white. She seemed, in some ways, far too young for the hair color, but it looked beautiful on her, so Daryl could easily see why she would keep it. It looked right and natural. It was part of that understated, natural beauty—the way the woman had of looking like one of those women who simply didn't need to try to look captivating. Everything about her radiated an inner beauty, and that reflected in her outer beauty.

Carol smiled at Daryl and passed Poppy over. There was clearly some hint of reluctance in the exchange.

"Thanks again," Daryl said. "For lettin' Poppy take a pit-stop here and all."

Carol laughed quietly.

"Any time," she said.

Daryl felt a tugging in his chest. He didn't want to say goodnight to this woman. He didn't want to say goodbye and slip outside into the swarms of strangers. He didn't want to walk away from this house and its owner with the knowledge that he might never see her again.

Daryl was brave when it came to some things, but he was the Cowardly Lion, at best, when it came to others. Women unnerved him, and that was even worse after Poppy's mother had shredded his heart and his trust. Still, he couldn't walk away—not this time—without at least trying something. Something inside him made him sure that, if he did walk away and leave things as they were, he'd be making the biggest mistake of his life.

"I know this is crazy, but…" Daryl said. He got stuck. He almost choked. Poppy seemed to sense it and she looked at him with a worried expression before petting his cheek. "I promise I'm not crazy, but…if tomorrow, you…"

Carol smiled softly.

"I—would love to meet you and Poppy for breakfast," she offered. "It's my favorite meal. And the pancake house in town makes some pretty incredible waffles."

Daryl felt almost like he'd been splashed with cold water, but it was in the most welcomed way possible. He felt himself grin before he was fully aware that he intended to do so.

"We love the hell outta some waffles," Daryl said. "Poppy's an early riser, though."

"Me too," Carol said. "What time should I meet you there?"

"Eight too early?" Daryl asked.

"Perfect," Carol said.

She opened the door. Daryl felt almost like he was leaving after a first date instead of a potty pit-stop. He hugged his daughter against him, his whole body fluttering over the thought of eight-o-clock waffles with this woman.

"Happy Halloween, Daryl," Carol said.

"Best one yet," Daryl said with a laugh. Carol smiled warmly. "Happy Halloween…Carol."

"Happy Halloween, Poppy," Carol said, touching Poppy's cheek. "You're the sweetest puppy I've seen all night."

Daryl stepped out onto the porch as Carol flicked her light on again. Immediately, a wave of costumed kids came running in the direction of her porch. Daryl bid Carol goodnight as he waded into them. He bounced Poppy against him, and she howled with laughter.

"Sweetest damn puppy in the world," Daryl said, nuzzling his daughter's face. "And you sure as shit your old man's best friend. You know that?"