This started out as a role play between myself (gunslingerdixon) and my Carol rp partner (nolongeraxburden), and it was mutually decided upon to share with the rest of FF as a fanfiction. So here it is! Enjoy!

If y'all are interested in following us just go to: nolongeraxburden. tumblr .com or gunslingerdixon. tumblr .com

Also: we own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

The good guy. Her words echoing in his ears like a whisper in the dark; a wrinkle set in his brow and a collective harrumph fell from his lips as Daryl began his pacing once more, working his jaw again as he kept his gaze attentive on her.

It always did come to him as a surprise when someone told him something like that. Words that he'd never heard come from his Daddy or his Mother's lips. Carol had told him words like this before and even then they had been foreign and unfamiliar in their meaning. He'd wondered then if it was a good thing that these words made him feel like he was of value and even now her words made him feel something, but this time they weren't of any merit he cared for. Wasn't that he didn't care, it was just that he still had an inkling of not being any good.

"I ain't the good guy." He replied in a low, gravelly tone stopping his pacing, hip dipped slightly, arms folded across his chest. Daryl held the jasper tight in his fist as he paused to collect his thoughts.

He could feel his temper swelling some and he wanted to holler and get right in her face and tell her that she was being glib about the whole thing. That his family wasn't the whole fucking entirety of newcomers he'd come across on his hunting trips or the various runs or the people they'd mercilessly brought back from Woodbury. The people he truly cared most for were those that he'd left Atlanta with— despite the bad blood that he'd left off with at the time.

Then the moaning came and he was in a predatory stance hand flying to his side, but before he could even manage to get close enough to take out the walker, Carol had thrust her own knife into its skull and resumed her speaking as if nothing had happened. He was certainly a little baffled and perplexed at how nonchalantly she had done it. Had it been just as easy to dismiss as the killings of both David and Karen? He wondered as he sheathed his knife and resumed his previous stance, hands tucked under his armpits. He could see Carol was visibly shaken up by the blood when he caught her eyes shift down to her hands and she began to tremble and quake.

And then he heard it. Her apology. He'd been waiting to hear her voice. To actually hear Carol. To hear that she hadn't meant to do it all along, but it didn't take back the fact that she had still done the act. She'd still taken lives. And despite the relief he felt when she'd apologized, he had to backpedal on his reasoning to take her back to the safety of the prison walls. He couldn't reason with taking her back knowing that Tyrese would simple kill her out of grief. It wouldn't matter that she was apologetic about the matter— he would kill her and there would be no stopping it. Nothing he could do.

Then his own words echoed, rattled more like in his head. I'll put a bolt in them fer what they did.Those had been his words and yet he found himself angry, temper unbridled as he blinked back his rage. Here she was and he had no means of doing such a thing now that everything had been said and done. He wouldn't do it, couldn't will himself, but it still didn't change anything and he felt like he was now back at square one. Always back to not knowing why it was he needed to seek her out and neither knowing how it could be rationalized to bring her back to the prison. It always came down to not knowing.

Daryl stopped his pacing, taking a hesitant step back from Carol. His jaw muscle clenched and he bit back the wince. He felt as if everything was simply for naught. He still didn't know why it was he felt he had to go and find her. It didn't matter much any which way he looked at. He'd go back to the prison empty handed despite having found Carol. It all came back to how the others would react and how then would she be treated, labeled as a murderer. Daryl began pacing, scrubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes as he worked them to rake through his shaggy crop of hair.

He was a child again with his balled up fists digging half-moons from the nails in his skin, dropping his hands from his hair to his sides. There was nothing he could do to stop Carol from her crying and nothing he could do to prove otherwise that he wasn't a total fuck-up of a human being with wasting the others' time with his wayward search for the woman before him. He'd thought he'd had a plan but like always it wasn't any good and there wasn't much comfort he could offer her beyond a pat on the back and a see ya later, but that wasn't him— Daryl couldn't just leave it at that.

Swallowing his pride and his anger, Daryl took a step forward, hand shaking slightly as he rest it on her shoulder. He wasn't sure what comfort this would offer her, but it was all he could think up to do to quell her crying. He was trying to keep the noise done for the sake of their lives. No telling what was lurking beyond the brush, but as a means of calming his own rampant mind.

Carol hadn't expected the touch. She hadn't expected the kindness, even if anymore that's what she would give him above anyone else. She had gone too far, and she wasn't redeemable. That's what Rick had left her with when he packed her a bit of meager supplies and set about sending her in the opposite direction of her home. She'd been lost to the people she'd come to call her family at her own doing, and she didn't know why he'd risked his life to come and find her. What had he hoped to gain? What did he want from her?

She moved her hand slowly up, resting it on his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes were still flowing with tears, the ache in her gut seemed to widen even more, and she wasn't sure she could hold it together until he climbed on that bike and headed back to the others. She wished that he'd get it done with and not make this take any longer than it had to.

She couldn't go back. Rick made that very clear. Even if she felt the weight of everything she'd done for the rest of her life, no matter how long that life would be now, she'd never be a welcome part of that family again. Everyone must hate her. Everyone but Daryl. And even with him, she wasn't sure. He didn't have it in him to hate her. At least she hoped. She felt her nails digging into his skin as the sobs ripped through her chest.

She whispered softly, "I'd never forgive someone like me had they done what I did. There's no excuse for it, nothing I can do to make it right. Daryl, Rick gave me the best chance I got out here." She let out a shaky breath then, reaching up with her free hand and wiping the tears off her cheeks. "But I'd like to think…to think that in this world, there's still a place for me. I guess it's my job to find it. Right?"

Every fiber of her being wanted to ask him to stay and make a go of it with her, but she wouldn't be selfish. For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon had a home with a family that adored him. And he deserved it. She wasn't so far gone that she would be selfish on top of being a killer.

A killer.

Her heart gave a shudder at the word. Is that what she was now? At the time, that's not what it felt like. At the time, it felt like the humane thing, the right thing, but she knew, even then, that it wasn't.

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