Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review this story. Sorry for the slow updates, this chapter took a while to get right. Originally it was going to be joint with the previous one, but I wanted to explore each one in more depth so they bcame two seperate ones, so sorry for the sudden ending on the previous chapter but here the moment is continued.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammer errors, I do my best to proofread, but sometimes things get missed. I hope you enjoy the chapter and stick with the story. Please review, your feedback is important and helps me develop as a writer.

With his body mere inches from her own, her hands trembled as she reached out toward his rough, marred skin. The tips of her fingers ghosted along the pink and white marks that covered his toned body. She carefully studied his face as her warm hands explored his skin, knowing he wasn't very comfortable with physical contact. She smiled a little to herself as he closed his eyes at her touch, almost as though he enjoyed the closeness of it all. Surely not, this was Daryl Dixon after all.

Her hand came to rest at a scar that she knew. The one he had received while out searching for Sophia, impaling himself with one of his own arrows after a tumble from a cliff. He sighed softly as she caressed the mark on his side.

"Don't regret that one. 'Bout the only one that has good reason bein' there" he told her.

Carol couldn't help but smile at his comment. She continued travelling her fingertips along his body, finding a particularly nasty scar spanning almost the entire vertical length of his ribcage on his right side. Carol waited patiently for the story behind the scar as she traced it with her soft fingers, noticing the goosebumps it caused on his skin.

"Merle was in juvi, Daddy come home drunk. Start'd beatin' on me. Tried t' defend myself… Daddy weren't happy 'bout that. Pulled out his knife"

Carol had to fight back tears, no child deserved that kind of abuse. "How old were you Daryl?"

"Dunno… 'bout seven I think"

The thought of Daryl, a small defenceless seven year old boy being beaten by a grown man was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. She slowly continued her journey across his body, walking around behind him to view the mass of scars on his back. Taking the time to touch each one with her finger tips, searching out the worst ones and listening to the stories behind them. She settled on a small thick scar on his left shoulder blade, caressing it with the tips of her fingers.

" That one was for bein' a useless piece o' shit son Daddy told me. I knocked over his beer. Burnt me with a hot fire poker".

With each story of his pain and suffering Carol began to understand why Daryl was the way he was. He had never been loved in his entire life. No one had treated him with love and respect and so he didn't understand what those things were or how they felt. She felt great sadness for him that he had not experienced some of the most important things in life. His father, a man who was supposed to love him unconditionally did nothing but hurt him and make him feel worthless.

Her hand came to rest on another scar, a long one reaching from the middle of his lower back around to his right side. Furiously blinking away her tears she waited to hear about the scar.

"That's from one of the many beatin's I got from Daddy's belt" he said in a low gruff whisper.

One of many? This poor man had suffered through so much. Carol wished she could just take away all his pain. But she knew all too well that pain from abuse like this was not just physical, but emotional. She wasn't sure which was worse. At least the physical pain would dull with time and eventually fade away to nothing. The emotional pain never left. It was haunting.

She made her way back round to his front to see his face, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He quickly shut them, not wanting her to see him cry. It hurt him to remember all of this. Things he had tried so hard to forget. She felt bad for wanting to know his stories, but he had offered after listening to hers.

Just as she was about to end their sharing session, her eyes settled on one last scar. One that sat right over top of his heart. It was a type of scar that she was certainly familiar with. The type of scar that was created by a hot cigarette pressed into the skin. She lay her hand gently over top of the scar, feeling his heart beating beneath it.

" Daddy was drunk, as usual. Said I didn't need a heart. Was pointless coz no one would ever love me, and I would never love anyone. Told me he was gonna burn it" he told her, a tear finally escaping the corner of his eye.

"That's horrible Daryl. And it's not true" she whispered softly.

"Believed 'im"

"Your father was a selfish man Daryl, he didn't deserve a son like you. And you deserved a much better father than him"

"Made me tough. Even if I am a heartless bastard"

"Daryl Dixon! Don't you let me hear you say things like that. You are anything but a heartless bastard. You risked your own life to try and save my Sophia, you barely knew her. But you cared enough, you can't truly believe you are heartless" she told him.

"Maybe not, but don't know what love is either" he replied, refusing to look into her eyes. Afraid of what he might see. The only looks he was used to were disappointment, rejection, hatred and anger.

She took his hand in her free one and gently pressed it to her heart. She could feel him trembling beneath her touch. She knew he was nervous, and maybe had never touched a woman in this way. She stayed silent for a moment, allowing him to get as comfortable as he possibly could with the intimate physical contact.

"Do you feel that Daryl?"

"Mhmm" he grunted nervously.

"I feel the same thing here" she whispered, as she tapped her finger on his chest where her right hand rested. "You Daryl, have a heart. Believe that".

"Carol…" he hesitated.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to judge you"

"Do you think… Do you think I will ever know what love is like?" he sighed softly, still looking down at his feet.

"I think once you trust yourself enough to open your heart, and trust others enough to let them in… you will" she told him in a matter of fact kind of tone.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, relaxing at the feel of one another's hearts beating beneath their hands. Daryl had never been this close to a woman. Never been this intimate. But no fucking way was he going to tell Carol that. He didn't want her thinking he was some kind of backward ass pussy. But the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the warmth that radiated from her body made him feel something that was foreign to him.

He looked up, and his blue eyes finally met with hers. He did not see anger. Or hatred… or even a hint of rejection or disappointment. All he saw in her eyes was understanding and a little sorrow. Yet she was smiling. That sweet smile that he loved to see so much. That smile that always made him want to smile too.

Carol was thankful for this moment that she got to spend with Daryl. A moment of sharing and understanding in one another's pain. A rare moment with a man like Daryl. Something about the rough redneck made her feel safe. And finally she had someone who understood her pain and what she had endured. They were alike, yet so different.

Slowly she leaned closer to him giving him plenty of warning, her warm, soft lips meeting his chest where her hand had been resting. Gently kissing the scar that lay over his guarded heart. It was a sweet and simple kiss, but it held so much meaning for the both of them.

He stood silently as her lips connected with his chest. His heart thumping rapidly. He had no words at all, he couldn't even think. His face felt hot, he was sure his cheeks were bright red, but in that moment he didn't care. She had kissed him, because she wanted to. In that small moment he had felt more wanted than he had in his entire life.

"Thank you Daryl" she whispered sweetly as she handed him his shirt, slipping her own back over her bra covering her scarred body as he did the same.

"Yer welcome" he replied as she walked past him, brushing her hand along his chest as she headed for the door. A small smile graced his lips as he replayed the moment she had kissed him in his mind. Is that a taste of what love felt like?

"Geez Dixon, yer turnin' into a fuckin' pussy" he muttered to himself as he picked up his crossbow and made his way out heading back up to the rest of the group.