This started out as a role play between myself (gunslingerdixon) and my Carol rp partner untapdtreasure (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.

Daryl:

"Weren't his choice t'make." He growled low keeping his eyes trained away from meeting her gaze. The soft shudder of her lips echoed loud as his breathing had ceased to come in haggard breaths— nerves having calmed down some from his fit of anger. He worked his jaw grinding his teeth in slight frustration.

Silence fell between them again as became lost in his thoughts once more. Daryl listened to her speak softly into the darkness and the tear of fabric being ripped apart. He didn't acknowledge that he was still bothered by Rick's decision nor that he was really paying much attention to anything else but his own rampant mind at work. When she took his hand he jerked it from her grasp. When she tried again, his head cocked in Carol's direction as she led him into the dying light.

His attention was stolen by the glimpse of pale skin his eyes caught. The gnarled scar that ran from her hip across her navel keeping steady his gaze; eyes following every dip and hill from where stitches had ruined the healing flesh. He felt the beat of his heart thrum faster; the sound echoing louder and louder with each beat in his head as his eyes took in the result of a mistake having been made, an apology gone to the wayside. He was enamored by the jagged line of scar tissue and how incredibly similar it mirrored that of his own across his belly and down his groin.

He was reaching out with shaky fingers to brush lightly along the upraised tissue before he knew what he was doing. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat trying his best to gulp down the jostling fumble of his stomach and swirl of emotions that were rifling through his mind. He was curious about the feel, whether it was smooth as he thought it might be or rough, like callus. The moment he felt the warmth of her soft flesh, he immediately recoiled his hand suddenly aware of what he was doing and that she was avidly watching him. Daryl ducked his head shyly looking away, his hand dropping back to his side, fingers rubbing together. The warmth of her skin still burning itself into his fingertips like a brand.

Besides, I've got you now… always have each other…

Did she really? Did she really have him like she said she did? Did he really even have her? What did that even really mean? To have someone? They'd always had each other in the loosest of terms. They'd both been looked at as the outcasts more or less initially and slowly as time went on they became leaders in their own right. Stuck together as they did since the only one they could count on was the other. And the more he thought about it the more it made sense: her words. She had him wrapped around her finger and she likely didn't even know how much her presence mattered to him. How much knowing she was a constant in his life meant.

Even before he even knew her story, Daryl had near died for her daughter and he really didn't even know the woman to begin with nor cared much for her. He'd stayed out of the pair's way as they had done the same for him. The moment he had seen the flicker of sadness in Carol's eyes when the walkers had chased her down the ravine, he'd felt a sudden obligation to do what it took to find that little girl. It was an unspoken beacon of hope that some remote good could come out of this world. That there could still be luck. The Cherokee rose he had found had been just a measure of reassurance to help her through the trial of loss as something resonated in him that this was something he felt he should do.

Daryl would never admit how much he felt his world crashing down around him when he'd found her head-wrap beside T-Dog's mangled body and her pistol empty of rounds abandoned on the ground. The sinking feeling that he'd never see her again, that she had just simply disappeared like all else in his life, ran heavy through his chest. It was a choking feeling despite the fact that he was neither being suffocated nor drowned. It just went to show how much he took her for granted.

The weight of how much it mattered to him knowing that she was around made him realize how much of a constant she was in his life. It was like they had trained each other to seek the other out amongst a crowd, silently acknowledging that the other was there. Expressions without words. Quiet resolve that things would be okay.

The press of her hand against his cheek pulled him away from his thoughts and he instinctively reeled back from the touch before he knew exactly what was going on. Again the lump in his throat stuck and his breaths stopped. He felt a wash of anxiety flood his system at the simple gesture— afraid of what she could incline to mean.

"Fight what? Let be what what is?" He finally grunted, brow drawn up in slight confusion, heart hammering in his chest. He was rigid at her touch, sweat beading at his temple, hair bristling along the back of his neck. His walls were being thrown up once more— protection from being hurt. Daryl didn't want to give himself away, allow such vulnerability only to know that nothing ever lasted in this world. Not anymore.

He stuffed his non-injured hand into his pocket, fingers playing with the smooth surface of the jasper stone. The aversion of attention slowly calming his errant nerves. The taste of copper was pungent in his mouth having chewed his cheek to the point of breaking the skin. He winced slightly feeling the shred of skin as his tongue ran along his teeth.

"I don't know what yer meanin'." He replied thickly keeping his focus attuned to the stone in his pocket. Daryl was sure this was that moment: hell or high-water and he wasn't ready.

Carol:

Carol's skin tingled where his finger had dared to touch her. She wanted more. She wanted to be greedy and beg him to put his hands on her, touch her, feel her and know she was real and there and that she was his for the taking, but she knew she had to slow down. She had to let him regain his footing, or this could all just blow up in her face. She swallowed a little harder than she'd intended, feeling the lump burn her throat. She fought the discomfort and focused on the electric feeling he'd just sent from the scar and straight to her very gut. She let her eyes flutter closed.

This had been what had spurred her forward, moving her into his immediate space again, touching him. She couldn't stop touching him. It was like an addiction that she had to feed or it would eat her up inside. She whispered, "It's okay. Daryl, please?" Her hand came up again, this time her knuckles brushed over his cheekbone lovingly. Her eyes were slightly closed, head tilted as she looked up at him. There wasn't a better time than now to figure this all out, and she knew it. She knew it deep inside her heart. Just like she knew it would likely have to be her to state the facts, make the bold moves, and risk the rejection of her advances. But she had to put them out there, risk her very heart because she didn't want to give it to no one else.

It was more than them just being pulled together from similar home lives. It was more than the constant beat down the world seemed to throw at them. They were an unlikely pairing from the get go, but it hadn't stopped the flourish of their friendship. And what was a relationship if you didn't have friendship first? True friendship. And they had that. They'd always had that.

Until the sickness had invaded the prison and forced her hand to do something without his counsel, without his having her back. She lowered her eyes for a moment and took another shaky breath. Her hand lowered from his cheek and instead it and her other moved to his hips, fisting tight the fabric of his shirt and taking another step into him. They'd made peace with that. That's why they were here with walkers pawing at the doors, desperate to get to them and tear into their flesh. What if this was their last night together? It was thoughts like these that kept her going, kept her trying to survive at all costs. She'd had precious little time at his side, and she wasn't ready for that to be over. No matter how she got him in the end.

And she called him on it. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Daryl." Wasn't that how they worked? They didn't allow the other to throw around bullshit words and mind games. She was being open, honest, and she knew he got what she had been meaning all along. She moved up, quietly on tip toe. His attention was focused elsewhere, focused on whatever it was he had in his pocket and that for a second drew her attention too. She moved her hand from his hip and down to hook her fingers into his pocket. She was living dangerously at this point, and she didn't care. Better to have known she had put herself out there for the taking than to know she was a coward when they could have it all. Together.

"Whatcha got?" she said, playful tone to her voice. Curious as the cat she often referred to herself as. Nine lives and all. "Can I see?"

Please review and let us know what you thought! Cheers!

*Note: This is also not 100% written by myself. I owe a lot of credit to my wonderful partner as she is Carol and does a phenomenal job. Send her some love too at untapdtreasure here at FF!