Hotline

by SamiWammy

Hello : ) This is a series of one-shots based around Carol and Daryl. I am taking requests so content will vary from smut to emotional romance, horror, humor, you name it! If you want to see it happen, just send a PM. I'm a Caryl shipper through and through and I can't wait to see all the ideas you guys have for our favorite couple. Enjoy! 1st chapter is smut!

6. Coping

Happy holidays! Thanks for the awesome reviews to the last chapter; I'm glad you guys enjoyed it : ) I'm excited to be posting another request; this one comes from the very sweet Lisab876! She wanted to see our group take shelter in a mall (think Dawn of the Dead remake). This is a true one-shot and does not fit in with what has become known as the "haircut" mini-series. This chapter takes place post-mid-season finale and our survivors have been on the run, trying to find a place to rest and recoup while they figure out their next moves. Lucky for them, they come across an abandoned mall…how will they ever keep themselves entertained…surrounded by stores of every sort? Miss Lisa also requested that they visit one store in particular ; )

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead….but the fun we would have if I did : )

Chapter 6: Coping

The survivors were doing their best to keep a tight formation. Rick, Abraham and Michonne lead the group while Carol and Daryl were close behind. The others; Carl, Noah, Tyreese, Sasha and Tara were jogging to keep up. Everyone had their weapons raised. Glenn and Maggie were near the back; Glenn had an arm curled around his wife's waist as he urged her to keep moving. Rosita and Eugene brought up the rear…the would-be scientist lagging behind, fighting for every breath. They were all nearing their breaking points. After leaving the hospital, they'd run into more walkers than they were prepared to handle. The survivors were still so shaken, after witnessing the death of one of their own…they struggled to maintain focus. They didn't have a plan…they didn't know where they were going…all they knew was that they had to run.

They were panting, dripping sweat…their muscles screaming… But they couldn't stop. They were physically and emotionally drained. The only thing that kept them going was Rick's voice as the man yelled orders. Somehow, the deputy managed to keep his own grief at bay in order to help his people. With his pistol at his waist and the machete clutched tightly in his hand, Rick Grimes lead the ragged group of survivors through the streets of Atlanta. He wouldn't let them stop and he wouldn't let them slow down. His jaw was clenched hard as he ignored the burning in his lungs and kept moving.

There's gotta be a place…

A sudden movement caught his eye and he noticed walkers advancing in the periphery of his vision. They were stumbling down dark alleys, dragging their feet, hissing…snarling. Others were emerging from abandoned vehicles…their wasted bodies collapsing as they crawled out of half-open car doors. Rick glanced left, then right as he felt the beads of sweat rolling down his neck. He knew his group didn't have the strength to deal with this many corpses…

Not now….

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Tyreese's heavy footsteps as the man jogged alongside his sister. Judith was secured to Tyreese's chest in a make-shift sling. The deputy's main concern was getting all of them off the street. But time and options were running out…he needed to find a place for his children…they needed shelter. After everything they'd been through, as a group…as a family, Rick wasn't about to let his people get ripped apart in the middle of the street. So he kept his head clear and yelled at them over his shoulder. "Keep movin'…stay tight!"

They were crying out…exhausted…their voices cracking. Chests were heaving and angry tears were forming in the corners of their eyes. Teeth were bared in hateful growls as the survivors continued to push themselves, each of them fighting through the pain and fatigue that threatened to overtake them at any moment. At first, the deputy had been able to distinguish the sounds of their voices. He could hear Maggie's broken cries, Carol urging Daryl to keep going, Rosita yelling at Eugene to hurry…but as his lungs burned, and his muscles began to tremble with exhaustion, Rick realized that he couldn't hear them anymore…his people. Their screams and sobs had become one desperate, discordant, whirling storm of sound in his skull. The rushing of blood in his ears was beginning to drown them out. It was all too much…there were too many walkers and Rick didn't know what to do. He didn't have an answer….a way out. With adrenaline coursing furiously through his veins, the deputy clutched his machete tighter and lead the group around a sharp corner.

There were several gasps and eyes widened as the survivors stared into the dark, gaping entrance of a parking garage. None of them liked the idea of seeking refuge in the shadows…where anything might be lurking, but they were out of time. The corpses were closing in. Suddenly, Rosita grunted…her fingers curling around the handle of her blade as she jerked, twisting her body and driving the weapon into the skull of a walker. The dead thing had reached for her, clutching at the back of her shirt with a grey, rotted hand. Before the creature could drag Rosita to the ground, she buried her blade in its wasted flesh and the corpse fell away…its dead eyes staring up at her from the asphalt. But there was no time… The instant she freed herself from the walker's grasp, Rosita was grabbing Eugene's arm and hauling him after the others…she scarcely had a moment to pull a strained breath into her lungs.

"C'mon….now!" Rick snarled, beckoning them to follow him into the garage. The gate had long since been broken, the splintered remains strewn at the base of the ramp that led into the cement structure. Steeling themselves, the group hurried up the ramp, their footsteps echoing throughout the gloomy garage. As they ran, lost and scared through the surrounding blackness, they could hear bodies shuffling…broken feet dragging on the ground…and the terrible, familiar moans of the undead. Pale, eerie, glowing eyes emerged from the shadows and walkers began stumbling out from between abandoned cars. The survivors didn't stop. They kept running…they didn't have a choice. They growled and grunted, lashing out at anything that got too close…their limbs aching with the effort…their weapons seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. But they kept moving. Everything seemed to blur after they reached the second level of the garage…

There was shouting, pointing…a sudden, blinding light that stung their eyes. A heavy door was pushed open and the survivors were spilling out onto a covered walkway that was connected to another building. No one had time to ask questions. There were corpses behind them…around them, reaching out for their clothes…their legs… They nearly tripped over the garbage and human remains that littered the walkway…but they kept moving. Friends took hold of each other's hands, urging them on, dragging them when they had to. Siblings shouted at one another, telling each other to run. They finally came to a jarring halt when they reached the end of the walkway and found themselves staring at a pair of doors…the handles had been chained. It was a dead end. With his jaw set hard and sweat trickling down his neck, Abraham raised his rifle and slammed the stock into the glass doors… A sharp crack formed under the impact, spreading like a crooked line across the pane. But the man didn't let up. He huffed, his cheeks flushed with color, and slammed his weapon into the door again…and again. Just as the walkers began to close in on the group…Abraham brought his arm up, shielding his eyes as the glass shattered…the jagged shards glimmering in the afternoon light before raining down on the concrete. Breathless and out of options, the survivors pushed past one another and stumbled through the entrance, careful not to catch their skin on the broken glass that still clung to the metal door frames. None of them knew where they were, or what was waiting for them inside the strange building, but they knew they couldn't stay outside.

Six days had passed since Rick lead his group into the mall. The deputy didn't consider himself to be much of a believer…at least not since the world turned, but he felt that something had lead them to the shelter they found that day. The mall had proven to be more than any of them could've hoped for. They'd worked tirelessly the first two days….securing any entrances they could find and clearing stores. They'd come across more dead corpses than live ones and they helped each other to drag the wasted bodies outside. The mall had two stories. Whenever walkers or other remains were found on the second level, they were promptly dragged to the nearest window and dropped to the street below. With the exception of Judith, and whoever happened to be watching her, none of them rested those first two days. They didn't want to stop until they knew the sprawling building was secure…and until any trace of the undead had been cleared away.

While there were large department stores at each end of mall, and a wide range of smaller shops in between, the survivors opted to stick close to one another. They had all the space they could possibly need, but given the trials they'd faced, none of them seemed comfortable separating. So they gathered food, from overturned stalls, broken vending machines and several specialty shops. Fortunately, they'd stumbled upon a health and wellness store. The floor was littered with vitamin bottles of every shape and size…supplements, powdered protein dinks, metallic pouches of energy gel and plastic baggies filled with bits of dried fruit. The group was grateful for anything that might contain actual nutrients as they didn't expect to last long on chips and candy bars alone. Each day, they gathered what they could and took their findings back to the crude base they'd established in one of the larger department stores.

Having lost most of their belongings in their haste to flee Gabriel's church and then the hospital, the survivors couldn't lay claim to much more than their weapons. They felt the need to remain close to one another, but they also respected each other's space. Weapons served as the only markers for territory. Daryl's bow lay on the display bed he'd claimed in the furniture department. His ruck-sack had been dropped by the side of the bed. Glenn and Maggie shared a display bed that was a bit further from the others. Maggie hadn't been comfortable with much socialization since her sister's death. Some of the survivors arranged bedrolls on the floor by gathering pillows and linen from different departments. Sleeping bags were scavenged from a sporting goods store and there was no shortage of blankets. Slowly but surely, the group members made their camp and tried desperately to recuperate.

Rick preferred having two people on watch at all times. He wanted a good set of eyes at each end of the mall, in case anyone or anything tried to breach either of the entrances. More often than not, others would volunteer. They were all searching for things to keep them occupied and it wasn't unusual to see three or four people patrolling the mall at once. Glenn rarely left Maggie's side, and the two of them seemed to become the resident babysitters for Judith. Glenn hoped that interacting with the child would help lift his wife's spirit, if only slightly. Since no one considered Eugene to be much of a fighter, he was tasked with taking inventory of their supplies and rationing their food. Tara, Tyreese, Carl and Noah took turns scavenging for anything that might prove useful, working their way from one store to the next. They made a point to grab anything that could be used as a weapon, or any objects that would help barricade the mall's entrances. Rick, Abraham, Carol, Michonne, Sasha and Rosita dominated the watch shifts. None of them minded; they each needed to feel as though they were doing something important…contributing somehow. The only person who hadn't found a role in their new shelter was Daryl.

He'd withdrawn into himself…not speaking to anyone…or even looking at them. When the group first decided to establish their base in one of the large department stores, Daryl wanted to sleep on the floor, in a corner…far from the others. It was only at the collective urging, of everyone in the group, that he finally gave in and claimed one of the display beds. And even then…he seemed uncomfortable. He rarely slept and when he did, his muscles twitched every so often, and he muttered softly into his pillow, as if he were caught in some horrible nightmare…someplace even darker than the waking world he left behind.

On several occasions, Carol stood beside his bed, in the middle of the night, and carefully combed her fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He never woke...never saw her. She was sure he'd never even realized she was there…but she couldn't sleep when she knew that he was suffering. The hushed, pleading, words that he muttered kept her awake and she just wanted to comfort him. So she crept from her own bed and watched over him. He was so restless, and she'd been tempted to speak to him…whisper something to let him know that it was alright, but Carol couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing would change what happened at the hospital…the graphic tragedy was etched into their memories…and even sleep didn't offer relief. So she settled for keeping a silent vigil, her fingers combing lightly through his tangled hair. Warm sighs passed her lips as she held back her own emotions and stared hopelessly out into the surrounding blackness.

I'm so sorry….

The sun was just beginning to set, on their sixth day, and the group members were each occupied with their own tasks. Carol and Rosita had been on watch for a few hours, the two women finally feeling as though they were getting to know one another. They were at the South end of the mall, lost in conversation, when the sound of approaching footsteps caused them both to look up. Rick and Abraham were headed towards them.

"Hey." Carol said.

Rick nodded to her. "Anything to report?"

She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. "It's quiet. We haven't heard walkers at the doors for the last two days. They must've moved on."

"Maybe." Abraham huffed.

"What about camp?" Rosita asked, hefting the rifle that was slung over her shoulder. "Everybody okay?"

"I'd say they're doin' as well as can be expected." said the deputy. "Eugene's just about got all the supplies squared away. He thinks, if we stick to the rations, we've got food for another month."

Carol folded her arms across her chest. "A month? Well that's good news, right?" she asked as she eyed her companions.

Abraham scratched at the scruff under his chin. "Question is…what do we do a month from now? We gonna make a supply run 'n come back here…or we thinkin' about movin' on?"

Rick sighed. "I don't know. Guess that's a conversation we're all gonna need to sit down 'n have together."

A somber silence settled over the small group as they each considered the hardships that they would undoubtedly face when they left the mall…if they left. The deputy saw the shadows that had fallen across the women's features, and he cleared his throat, rousing them from their thoughts. They both looked up at the sound.

"You've been out here a while. Go on back and get some rest; eat somethin'." Rick reached out and placed a hand on Carol's shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"You sure?" she asked. "We're fine here…really…" she pointed to Rosita and the woman nodded.

"I'm sure." he said, patting Carol's shoulder one last time before releasing her. "Now go on."

She gave him a weak smile and moved to leave. Rosita followed, but the younger woman paused when she passed Abraham. She reached for his hand and took a moment to squeeze it, the two of them locking eyes. But Abraham nodded, signaling that it was alright for Rosita to head back to camp without him. As the women walked away, Rick called out to them. "Enjoy the refreshments."

Carol and Rosita paused, their brows knitting together as they exchanged glances.

"Go on." Rick yelled again.

So the two companions shrugged and resumed their trek back to the department store. "Do you know what that was about?" Rosita asked.

Carol sighed. "I have no idea."

"You gonna have any?" Sasha asked as she eyed her brother.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "No thanks. I'm good."

"You sure?" she asked, offering him the wine bottle.

Tyreese pushed the bottle away gently. "I'm sure. You go on."

Sasha sighed in defeat.

Tyreese placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. "It's fine. Ain't nothing wrong it. Rick gave you the go ahead."

She sighed again, staring down at the bottle that was resting in her lap. She and Tyrese were sitting on the carpeted floor of the department store, surrounded by the other members of their group. They found the alcohol early on, in one of the specialty shops. While the survivors weren't comfortable partaking, on that first exhausting night in the mall, they'd held onto the stash…just in case. The world they lived in was a dark one…a ruthless, blood-stained, angry world. Even though it made them feel weak, each of the survivors wanted an escape. Some of them found their relief in dreamless sleep, while others preferred to stay busy…constantly occupied. But now that they were finally beginning to get comfortable in their new surroundings, a few of the group members wondered if there might be another way to escape…to relieve stress… They couldn't blow off steam by stabbing walkers…they'd been trapped indoors for nearly a week. The survivors needed to relieve tension and they seemed to suddenly remember the alcohol that they'd stock piled during their first two days in the mall.

As several of the group members stood staring down at the assortment of wine and liquor bottles, they shifted on their feet and folded their arms across their chests. It was immediately apparent that none of them had been heavy drinkers before the world turned. Glenn's brows knit together as he remembered his time at the CDC… the way his skull ached the morning after their celebratory dinner…the taunting he'd fallen victim to, from Daryl, Rick, T-Dog and Shane… The deputy practically had to haul him up off the floor the next morning. As difficult as that next day had been…Glenn wasn't entirely opposed to another night of carefree drinking. He wasn't too proud to admit that he needed something…anything that might help numb the pain they'd all been struggling with for the last week. Rick gave them all the go-ahead, saying that he and Abraham would volunteer for watch if the others wanted some down time. But even so…the survivors seemed reluctant to indulge. They so rarely allowed themselves to relax, that the idea of shrugging their responsibilities, in order to drink, seemed almost ludicrous.

Realizing that someone needed to take the first step, Sasha had cleared her throat and stooped to grab hold of one of the wine bottles. Anxious and uncomfortable, she'd quickly retreated, heading to her bedroll. Tyreese followed after her, which lead them to where they were now…sitting side by side, staring at the bottle that was resting in Sasha's lap.

"Ain't nothing wrong with it." Tyreese repeated, trying to comfort his sister.

She glanced at him with tired eyes. "Guess you're right. You really gonna make me drink alone?"

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "No."

Her face brightened slightly as a weak smile appeared on her lips.

"Come on," he urged. "Let's get it open."

She chuckled softly, pulling a pocket knife from her belt. With nimble fingers, she flicked out one of the attachments, a small cork screw, and began working at the cork. "Told you this thing would come in handy one day." she smirked at him.

Tyreese smiled, shaking his head.

With a grunt, Sasha pulled the cork free. "Cheers" she said, as she raised the bottle to her lips and took a sip.

Tyreese chuckled when her saw her face scrunch up in disgust. "How is it?" he asked.

She coughed a little, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's dry."

They were both laughing and didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"You guys starting without us?" Tara asked.

Tyreese and Sasha stared up at their visitors. Tara, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie and Eugene stood together, each of them with a different bottle tucked under their arms.

"We brought our own." said Michonne as she held up another wine bottle.

Tyreese smiled, gesturing at the carpet and furniture around them, "Get comfortable."

Slowly but surely, the survivors got settled. Some of them sat on the carpet with Sasha and Tyreese, while others lounged on display beds. Their initial reservations began to fade as they sampled the libations. They found themselves talking, remembering, even laughing at times. The sound seemed strange…it had been so long since they'd been able to laugh. But lips were loosened and tension was gradually melting away. Even Maggie seemed to be somewhat relaxed, her head leaning against Glenn's shoulder as she occasionally took sips of his wine. They knew that the alcohol wouldn't change anything…their problems would still be waiting for them in the morning…terrible memories nagging at their consciousness, but they so desperately wanted to forget…if only for a few hours. They wanted to let the warmth from the wine fill them up…giving a rosy tint to their thoughts.

Carol and Rosita stood, amazed by the scene in front of them. Their fellow survivors were drinking, chuckling…there was color in their cheeks… "I guess this is what Rick meant by refreshments…" said Carol, her arms folded across her chest.

The group members looked up, glad to see that they had more drinking companions. "Care to join?" Tara asked, holding up her bottle. "It tastes like piss, but if you can get past that…it's alright."

Rosita cracked a smile. "Guess I'll have some." She set down her rifle and made her way carefully through the throng of bodies before slumping down beside Tara.

Glenn glanced up at Carol. "Come on, you know you want to."

She snorted, smirking at him. "Who has the baby?"

"It's fine. Noah and Carl have her. They're good." said Glenn, a smile on his face.

Carol shook her head and turned to walk away, but Glenn called after her. "Hey; aren't you gonna join us?"

She looked over her shoulder. "I'll be back; just dropping my gear off. Carry on."

When Carol reached her display bed, she shrugged the rifle off her shoulder and took off her jacket. She was tucking her knife and other small weapons away for later use when she noticed movement nearby. With the sun beginning to set, the department store was dimly lit. But Carol looked up and saw that Daryl was propped up on his own bed, drinking. She stared at the glass bottle he held, and the amber colored liquid inside.

He must've noticed her staring because in the next instant, he was growling at her. "Need somethin'?" He didn't look at her, he simply took another swig from his bottle.

Carol cleared her throat and hugged herself. "No; I just came to drop off my stuff…I was going to join the others… Don't suppose you'd wanna tag along?" she asked.

He snorted. "Nah."

She sighed, frustrated, and walked around her bed until she stood beside his. "Why not?"

He finally looked at her, a scowl on his face. "Ain't none of your concern."

She ran her hands over her face in exasperation. "Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?" he snapped. The hunter was propped up against the pillows that covered the make shift headboard on his display bed.

"Pull away." she said.

Daryl glared at her and took another pull from his bottle.

"You close yourself off and disappear. We need you…we need everyone. With everything that's happened…we can't afford to lose anyone else…not by their own choice." she said, her blue eyes fixed on him.

He snorted again. "You're one to talk about disappearin'."

Carol rubbed the back of her neck, remembering the way she'd acted after Terminus. She hadn't opened up to anyone; she didn't want to tell them what happened to the girls. Whenever Daryl approached her for answers, she offered up excuses and turned away. But she only did what she thought was best. Carol was still recovering from the things she'd seen and done at the grove…the others didn't need those images in their heads. Daryl was right…she'd pulled away and now she was chastising him for the same behavior. Sighing in defeat, she took a few steps back and sank down to sit on the edge of her bed. With her hands clasped, resting on her knees, Carol looked at him. "I'm sorry."

"What?" he growled.

"I'm sorry for not talking." She bowed her head for a moment, trying to summon the right words. "It's just…some things are better left unsaid."

Daryl grunted before taking another long pull from the bottle. "Ya mean like what happened to the girls?"

The words stung and Carol had to swallow hard to maintain her composure. When she felt that she could speak, she lifted her chin and stared at him. "I didn't think it would help…to talk about it…I still don't."

"Well," he took another swig and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Maybe I don't feel like talkin' neither."

She was leaning forward, her legs hanging off the side of the bed as she sat on the edge. "I'm not asking you to talk."

"Naw," he said. "Ya just want me to spend the night drinkin' 'n carryin' on with them ass holes…like that's gonna help." He gnawed his bottom lip before glaring at her again. "It ain't gonna help…nothin' helps…." the last words came out in a low growl as he stared down at the glass bottle in his hands.

A heavy silence fell over them as they each struggled with their own dark memories. Carol knew that he was torturing himself…blaming himself for everything that happened to Beth. She didn't know what to say…how to convince him… Realizing that he wasn't going to give in, and that her best course of action would probably be to leave him alone, Carol slid off the bed. She took a moment to press her hands into her lower back, in an attempt to crack her aching spine. Just before she turned to go, she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Daryl…" she said softly.

He looked up, his sharp, blue eyes cutting through the gloom and focusing on her.

"It's not your fault." She said. Carol didn't wait for a response. She turned away and headed back towards the friends that were waiting for her…secretly hoping that the alcohol and good company would distract her for the night.

Her hushed words echoed in Daryl's ears and he felt the familiar pangs of guilt stabbing at his consciousness. It didn't matter what she said…or what anyone said for that matter. The hunter knew that Beth's blood was on his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about the scarlet pool that had formed beneath her head…the way the sticky liquid spread across the linoleum floor. The sound of the gun shot still woke him from his sleep, and he'd be forced to sit, with his head in his hands, panting and muttering curses, until his heart rate slowed.

"She's wrong…" he growled softly to himself before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink.

"It's my fault…"

In another section of the department store, the red-faced survivors were laughing, nearly choking on their wine…

"I just don't see it…" said Rosita, as she leaned against Tara's shoulder.

"I swear…" said Glenn. "My roommates grabbed my clothes while I was in the shower…I ended up in the hallway, locked out of my apartment, in nothing but my birthday suit."

Eugene spoke up from his spot on one of the display beds. "I'd be tempted to laugh If I hadn't found myself in a very similar predicament…one more than one occasion."

"Okay," said Tara, "Moving on…"

The others laughed and sipped their drinks.

"Anybody gonna top that?" Glenn asked, eyeing his companions. "Somebody's gotta have a better story. Come on…most embarrassing moment…."

Carol blushed and started laughing.

"You got something juicy?" Rosita asked, looking up at her friend. Carol was sitting beside Michonne on one of the display beds.

"No," Carol laughed, her eyes closing, "Forget it."

The others exchanged curious glances before urging her to continue. Michonne nudged her. "Come on; how bad can it be? I doubt anyone will remember anyway…"

The survivors chuckled at that.

"Okay," Carol breathed, her cheeks flushed. She brought one hand up to cup her forehead as she tried to maintain her composure. "Don't repeat this…"

"No promises" said Tyreese, a smirk on his mouth.

Carol blew out a breath and tried to focus; the wine was making her warm and her head was beginning to swim. Before she could stop herself, the words were tripping off the end of her tongue. "I've seen Rick naked…."

Michonne about choked. The others were all staring in amazement, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping.

"What?!" Glenn asked, his face cracking into a smile.

Carol's head was in her hands as she dissolved in another fit of laughter.

"When was this?" Sasha asked.

Carol had to fight to catch her breath; she was laughing so hard that it hurt. "Back at the prison.." she finally managed to say. "I went down to the showers…it was late; I thought everyone else was asleep."

"I don't like where this is going…" said Glenn.

Carol took a moment to wipe at her eyes, her shoulders seemed to shake with trapped laughter. "I step into the shower room, thinking that I'm being pretty quiet…but I must've made too much noise because the next thing I know, Rick's out of the shower and he's got his machete raised….and…." she held her head in her hands as more laughter spilled from her. "It was so late…and neither of us expected any company down there…I think we were both in a state of shock and it took a few seconds before each of us realized who the other was…"

"So what the hell did you do?" Tara asked.

Carol shook her head, chuckling. "The only things we could do. We each backed away, slowly, trying not to make eye contact and as soon as I pulled the door open, I took off, running like hell…I was trying so hard not to laugh…I didn't want to wake the whole cell block up."

Michonne smirked at her, "You fell apart, didn't you?"

Carol nodded, wiping at her eyes again. "The second I got to my cell, I doubled over, laughing my ass off into a pillow…Jesus, I laughed so hard I about pissed myself. I'm surprised you all didn't hear me."

They all snickered and shook their heads in disbelief.

"God," Carol sighed. "I swear it was weeks before I could look that man in the eye again."

The laughter gradually died down and the survivors took the opportunity to sip their bottles and pass them around. Michonne handed Carol a bottle and the woman took a tentative sip.

"So…" Rosita said, her eyes trained on Carol's face.

"What?" Carol asked, taking another pull from the bottle.

Rosita smirked. "How was he?"

Carol spat her wine several feet, nearly hitting Glenn. She was laughing, her face flushed with color as she reached up to wipe her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Michonne gave her a pat on the back, trying to get her to calm down. After several deep breaths Carol lifted her chin and stared out at her companions. She still had one hand curled loosely around the neck of the bottle, while the other hand was resting on her thigh. She smirked, shrugging. "I'll put it this way…Rick…has nothing to be embarrassed about." Without missing a beat, she brought the bottle to her lips and took a long pull.

The others burst into fits of laughter…tears welling at the corners of their eyes. "Jesus…I didn't need to hear that!" said Glenn as he cupped his aching forehead.

"Oh quit," Carol chided. "We've been living in close quarters so long…I'm surprised we haven't had more incidents."

"No offense, but I'd rather not run into any of you naked…" said Glenn.

"I don't know…" Michonne chuckled. "It wouldn't be that bad…I happen to think we're a pretty decent looking bunch…"

Tara collapsed onto her back laughing, one arm draped across her forehead.

Carol sighed and ran a hand through her hair. There was a silly grin on her face and her lids were growing heavy. "If it were up to me, I'd catch Dar-"

But Michonne didn't let her finish. She quickly curled an arm around Carol, pulling the woman into her side. "I think you've had enough…" said Michonne as she carefully took the wine bottle away from Carol and set it on the floor. Carol was giggling as she leaned against her friend's shoulder.

Fortunately, the others were too drunk to take much notice of Carol's near-admission. The more they laughed, the more light-headed they became. The survivors seemed to simmer down, each of them getting lost in their own, nonsensical conversations. Glenn was kissing his wife's shoulder and stroking her hair while he spoke softly to her, making sure that she was alright. Tyreese and Sasha were engaged in some sort of debate concerning the best way to fight a hangover. Eugene was reclining on one of the display beds, fighting to stay awake…but he was clearly losing the battle. Tara seemed to have passed out after her last laughing fit, and she lay on her back, occasionally mumbling something incoherent. Carol continued to lean heavily against Michonne, and the younger woman felt the need to say something. She rubbed Carol's arm, trying to rouse her. "Hey," she whispered.

Carol blinked, staring up at her friend. "Hm?"

"You need help getting to bed?" Michonne asked.

Carol cleared her throat, shifting on the bed to give her companion some space. "No, I'm fine. Think I just need to walk this off…"

"You sure? I can go with you…" Michonne's hand was resting lightly on Carol's back.

Before Carol could answer, Rosita stood with a grunt. "I'll go with her. I'm feeling a little restless. Think I've been sitting here too long."

Carol gave the woman a tired smile.

Michonne eyed the two of them and was clearly concerned about the idea of her less than sober companions wandering off together. "You two sure you're alright?"

Rosita stretched, yawning. "Yeah; we're good."

Carol chuckled as she eased off the bed. "We're just gonna take a walk. Maybe we'll check in on Rick…see how he's doing." She winked and gave Michonne's arm a pat. All three women burst out laughing. Before Carol turned to leave, Michonne leaned in, whispering to her.

"Maybe you can describe that little run-in you two had in the shower…in more detail. You know…later." Michonne couldn't keep a straight face as the words left her lips. She grabbed Carol's hands and the two women snickered. Carol finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes again.

"God…I can't remember the last time I laughed this much…or at all." Carol stared dreamily at the wine bottle that was still sitting on the floor.

Michonne stood, staggering slightly, which only made them giggle more.

"Booze has that affect…" Rosita quipped.

"I'm gonna call it a night." said Michonne. "You two be careful." With that, she turned and headed towards her section of the department store.

"Well…" said Carol, her hands sliding into her back pockets. "Where are we headed?"

Rosita chuckled. "Let's explore."

Carol smiled. The idea of exploring the mall sounded so silly. They'd been there for nearly a week and could probably name every last store if they had to. But Carol's mind was hazy and she enjoyed Rosita's company so she nodded, letting the younger woman lead them out of the department store.

Somehow, the two women managed to climb the steps that lead to the second story of the mall. There'd been some stumbling, and plenty of giggling, but they helped each other reach the top. At first, they'd engaged in some completely legitimate scavenging. They wandered into a small store that sold candles, greeting cards and various trinkets. The candles were important. The others had gathered as many as they could from other stores, but Carol and Rosita felt that the men may have overlooked the fairly feminine shop they'd found themselves in. The space was heavy with smells…cinnamon, vanilla, lavender… The two women giggled as they gathered what they could.

Carol stooped to collect a large candle from the floor…it was in a glass jar and she squinted to read the label. "Macintosh Apple?" she mumbled to herself. A snort followed.

"What?" Rosita asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Carol sighed, shaking her head. "The world ended…do we really need candles that smell like Macintosh apples?" Another chuckle escaped her.

Rosita smirked. "What's the harm? It's not like we have much light….this is a big building." She raised an arm, gesturing outwards to the rest of the mall. "I think we can use as many candles as we can get our hands on. The last thing we need is people tripping over themselves on watch."

Carol hefted the heavy candle in her hand, considering her friend's words. "You planning to take all these back to camp?"

Rosita shook her head. "I was thinking we could leave one in front of all the stores…sorta line the walkways on the first and second stories."

Carol smiled at her friend. "Good thinking. So you're not taking any back with you?"

Rosita sighed, defeated. "Fine. I wanted to take a few; alright?"

Carol chuckled.

"Hey; in case you haven't noticed…there aren't any showers here. I'll take the good smells where I can get them. Besides…" she glanced at a candle that had a pale, purple hue. "Lavender is supposed to help you sleep."

Carol's hazy mind was wandering again. It was true…the survivors weren't able to clean themselves up as well as they might like. They used the bathroom sinks to wash up, and grabbed towels or other cloths to scrub the grime off their skin. Gradually, they were getting clean, but the smell of sweat always seemed to hang in the air around them; they couldn't help it. They worked hard; clearing the mall of corpses, fortifying the entrances…gathering and sorting supplies, looking after the baby… They spent most days covered in at least a thin layer of sweat, but they'd grown accustomed to the smell. Carol found herself thinking of Daryl…his display bed was only feet from her own and his scent had come to be something of a comfort to her. She liked knowing that he was there when she fell asleep. She wondered how he could still manage to smell like the outdoors when they'd been inside for nearly a week. As she sank onto the bed each night and let her heavy lids droop, she'd breathe him in and try to puzzle out everything that made up his scent. There was sweat, a hint of smoke, leather, and something earthy that made her think of grass…or trees. She let if flood her senses each night, and it seemed to be the only thing that helped her get to sleep. The smell was familiar, safe… She was so lost in her thoughts that her grip loosened on the candle and the glass jar crashed to the floor with a sharp crack.

"Jesus!" Rosita cried, stumbling back a little.

A small gasp escaped Carol and she took a shaky step back, her eyes going to the floor where bits of broken glass were glittering in the dark. "Shit…" she sighed. "Sorry."

Rosita placed a hand on her own chest as she caught her breath. "God…you okay?" she asked.

Carol chuckled as she reached up to rub the back of her neck. "Yeah; I'm fine…just got distracted that's all."

"Right." said Rosita, her tone doubtful. She studied her friend for a moment and wondered if they should both just call it a night and head back to camp. She was about to suggest that they both turn in when a sudden realization struck. A smile was spreading across the younger woman's face. "You up for a little more exploring?" she asked.

Carol looked up, a lazy smirk on her lips. "Sure. Why not?"

Rosita dropped a few more candles into the plastic bag she held and then motioned for Carol to follow her out of the store. "Come on," she urged. "And try not to bust your ass…I'm not dragging you back down the stairs."

Carol laughed and did her best to follow the younger woman out into the dark walkway. The sun had all but set and the mall seemed so gloomy, vast…almost eerie. But the two women were warmed by their wine and weren't bothered by their grim surroundings. "Where are we going?" Carol asked after a minute or two of walking…well, stumbling may have been a more accurate description of what they were doing.

Rosita chuckled. "I told you…we're exploring."

Their footsteps echoed throughout the building and Carol had to focus to avoid tripping. She idly wondered how they would even make it back down the steps to their camp.

We're going to pass out up here…hopefully Rick and Abraham find us. We'll never hear the end of it if those two have to carry us downstairs…

The mental image of the two men hauling them down a flight of stairs made Carol giggle and she was just about to share her thoughts with Rosita….but the younger woman suddenly stopped and Carol nearly crashed into her. "Find what you were looking for?" Carol asked, still chuckling.

Rosita nudged her companion and pointed up at the sign above the store entrance. When Carol glanced up, she snorted, shaking her head.

"Come on; let's go." Rosita urged.

Carol ran a hand over her face. "Really? You're serious?" she asked.

Rosita sighed. "I just wanna look around. What's it gonna hurt?"

Carol blew out a breath and rubbed her tired eyes. "Guess I just don't see the point…At least the candles have a practical use…"

Rosita had one hand on her hip as she stared at her friend. "Don't you ever get tired of having to be practical all the time? We have to overthink everything…where we stay, how long it'll take to get there…how much food, how much fuel…how many bullets…Sometimes, I just get tired of it all. Don't you ever just wanna do something for the hell of it?"

Carol let the younger woman's words sink in; she was right. The survivors spent all their time analyzing, over-thinking, strategizing…worrying. What Rosita didn't know was that Carol's life had been very similar, even before the world ended. She always had her guard up. She had a violent husband to keep at bay, and she never had a moment's peace. When she wasn't coming up with excuses for her injuries, Carol was doing everything in her power to keep the man away from their daughter. The memories were beginning to darken her mood and she shook her head, dismissing them. Maybe Rosita was right and a little spontaneity would do them both some good. Still…Carol couldn't exactly wrap her head around the younger woman's desire to explore this particular store. She knew that Rosita and Abraham were an established couple, and maybe the girl just wanted to do something to please her partner…but the whole thing still seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. Even in her drunken state, Carol had to question Rosita's choice.

"Fine." Rosita sighed. "You can stay out here if you want; I'm going in." With that, she turned on her heel and headed into the store.

Carol groaned softly, one hand cupping her forehead. As she continued to war with herself, she stared up at the black sign with the pink lettering. It was familiar…unmistakable. Before the world turned, Carol had walked past the store hundreds of times, during various shopping trips. She never dared to set foot inside. If Ed had ever caught her wearing anything from there..it would've garnered a beating. He would've made the assumption that she'd been cheating…and Carol never wanted to risk her own well-being for something as silly as an over-priced pair of panties. But now…at the end of the world…Carol realized that none of those concerns were relevant anymore. No one had dominion over her. Finally accepting the fact that no one was going to judge her, or berate her…and that she could make her own choices without fear of repercussion, Carol Peletier straightened her back, squared her shoulders and followed her companion into the store.

Back in the department store, Daryl was still propped on his bed, with only a bottle of liquor for company. The sullen hunter stared out into the gloom with narrowed eyes…Carol's words echoing in his skull.

It's not your fault…

"She don't know shit…" he muttered to himself.

Anger and bitterness had been festering inside him all evening. The bourbon hadn't helped. When he first snatched the bottle from the group's stash, he'd held out vain hopes that the alcohol would make him numb…and smother his guilt, if only for a few hours…but it hadn't. Instead, he lay propped on the bed, his aching mind replaying the tragic events that had taken place at the hospital…over and over again… He needed to escape…to get away from those memories…but he didn't know how.

The hunter envied Carol…her ability to cope. She'd been there; she saw what happened to Beth, and yet she'd been able to move on…to function. While he was stupefied, and in shock, she'd grabbed his arm, dragging him down the streets of Atlanta as the group ran for their lives. It was her voice, ringing in his ears….telling him to move. From the time they'd first reached the mall, Carol made herself useful. When she wasn't on watch, or helping look after Judith, she was rationing supplies with Eugene, or scavenging with Carl and Noah. Daryl didn't understand how she could behave so normally after the traumatic events they'd all endured. Carol's strength and willingness to help the others only served to compound the hunter's guilt. He felt weak…useless. He wasn't dealing well with his grief and he didn't even have the outlet of hunting anymore. At the prison…at Gabriel's church…he'd taken solace in the fact that he could escape his problems by disappearing into the woods. He could find some semblance of peace, surrounded by trees and grass…soft dirt beneath his boots…and he could take pride in his ability to provide for his companions whenever he came back with a kill. But all of that had been taken from him. He was trapped in this damn building…like an animal in a cage…and he was quickly discovering that captivity didn't suit him.

The more he thought about Carol, the more irritated he became. He wanted to know how she could go on acting like things were fine. He'd been stewing in his own misery and taking pulls from his bottle as he waited for her to come bed down for the night. She usually came to bed around the same time every night, unless she had a watch shift…and she always made a feeble attempt to engage him in conversation before turning in. Daryl had made up his mind that he was going to ask her, point blank, how she was dealing with all the shit they'd been through…but she wasn't back yet. He was restless, his blunt nails clawing at the comforter beneath him and he wasn't sure that he could sit still much longer. The hunter lifted the bottle, taking another long pull before leaning over the side of the bed and setting it down, as carefully as he could, on the floor. With a grunt, he slid off the bed. Daryl had to take a moment to get his bearings. He was slightly dizzy as he blinked at the surrounding darkness. When he felt that he could take a step, without falling, he slowly began heading out into another part of the store.

The hunter was muttering curses under his breath. He'd bumped into more than a few displays on his journey and he was thoroughly aggravated by the time he finally reached the spot where Michonne had arranged her bedroll. He dropped to a crouch beside her and shook the woman's shoulder.

Startled, Michonne sat bolt-upright and shoved the intruder hard. Daryl stumbled back, landing on his ass as more curses tripped off the end of his tongue.

"Fuckin' Christ…" he growled as he tried to right himself.

Michonne was propped on her bedroll, staring hard at the man who'd woken her. "Jesus Daryl…What is it?" she groaned, her mind clouded with sleep and wine.

The hunter was sitting just a few feet from her. "Ya seen Carol? She ain't back yet…"

The frustrated woman sighed, trying to collect her thoughts. "She was with Rosita…think they were gonna take a walk."

Daryl's brows knit together.

A walk…?

"They on watch?" he asked.

Michonne shook her head. "No, they're probably scavenging…or they passed out in another store. I'm sure they're fine. Wherever they are, Rick and Abraham will find them. Go to bed Daryl." With that, she closed her eyes and eased back down onto her side.

The hunter wasn't satisfied. He pushed himself up off the floor and began making his way back through the store. Fresh anger was coursing through him at the thought of Carol and Rosita stumbling around the mall, drunk and on their own.

Dumbasses….

He wasn't sure what he would do when he found them…but he knew that he needed a whipping post. Daryl was filled with more frustration than he could handle and he needed to unleash it on something…or someone. Carol had always been a safe outlet for his aggression in the; she could bear the brunt of his anger…letting the harsh words roll off her shoulders without so much as flinching. She let him yell, swear…and she never held it against him afterwards. The woman seemed content to listen, no matter how out of line he was…and once he ran out of words, his cheeks flushed and his fists trembling…she always stood in front of him, meeting his gaze, and used reason to calm him down. He'd lashed out at her more times than he could remember, but the woman was unbreakable…as far as he could tell. Anger drove him forward as he stepped out into the rest of the mall. He'd made up his mind and if it took him the rest of the night, Daryl Dixon was going to find her and make her listen.

Rosita pulled several candles from her plastic bag and set them on the checkout counter. She fished a lighter from her pocket and focused as she lit the candles, one by one. The store was barely illuminated by the soft glow and Rosita grabbed more candles, setting them on nearby display tables.

Meanwhile, Carol stood with one hand cupping her forehead. "I still can't believe you dragged me in here."

Rosita smirked, lighting another candle. "You're a big girl…you make your own choices. No one forced you to come in here."

Carol sighed, eyeing her surroundings. She had to admit, she'd always been curious about this place. Walking to the nearest display table, she gently lifted a lace thong, holding it up by two fingers. "I just don't get it…" she said softly, almost speaking to herself.

"Hm?" Rosita asked as she bent over another table, and set a candle down.

Carol squinted, trying to make out the numbers on the price tag that hung from the underwear. "What would possess someone to pay fifteen dollars for panties? There's not even enough fabric here to…"

But Rosita just shook her head, chuckling. "You've really never been in here? Not even to pick something out for a special occasion…an anniversary?"

The smile seemed to fade on Carol's face and she set the thong back on the table. "No. Can't say that my husband would've appreciated it. He had a bad temper, and a jealous streak a mile wide. To be honest…" Carol paused, trying to find the right words. "Before the turn…I never would've had the guts to come in here."

Rosita lit another candle before turning to face her friend. "Why?" she asked softly. "It's just hard to imagine you being afraid of anything."

Carol sighed. "I was afraid of him. If he ever caught me wearing something like that…." she gestured to the thongs on the table. "He would've beaten me. It didn't take much to set him off."

A crease was forming in Rosita's brow. "But…"

"As far as he was concerned…" Carol continued. "Only whores wore stuff like this…he would've assumed I was cheating…"

Rosita was silent for a moment as she considered her friend's words. "Sounds like he was a real prick." she folded her arms across her chest.

Carol couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her upon hearing the younger woman's blunt statement. She nodded in agreement. "Yes; that would sum it up."

Rosita smiled. "Must be a relief, knowing he's gone."

Carol rubbed the back of her neck. "It is. Maybe this is a horrible thing to say…but I don't think my life actually started until the day he died."

Rosita pushed herself away from the table she was leaning against. She took a step towards Carol, meeting her gaze. "That's the silver lining…" said the younger woman. "Yeah; the world ended…everything might've gone to shit, but we all got a chance to start over. I like to think of it as the slate getting wiped clean. You think anybody had confidence in me before this?" she asked.

Carol managed a weak smile.

"Please…" Rosita snorted. "People would take one look at me and make a judgment call. No one thought I was smart enough, or strong enough to make it on my own… Hell, even after the turn…people assumed I was weak. It wasn't until Abraham…" There was a faint smile on the younger woman's lips. "He was the first person that actually saw something in me. He made me feel useful." When she'd finished speaking, Rosita reached out, placing her hand on Carol's shoulder. "We're not the women we were before."

Carol's smile widened as she stared at her friend. "Guess you're right."

Rosita smirked. "I am."

Carol chuckled and the women eased apart. "Okay…now that that's settled…please explain what any of this has to do with ridiculous, over-priced underwear?"

Rosita shook her head, laughing. "Jesus Carol…quit over thinking it. This is supposed to be fun. Come on; when was the last time you felt sexy?"

Color rushed to Carol's cheeks and she giggled. "Sexy? That's not a word I would use to describe myself…"

"Why not?" The younger woman had her hands on her hips as she waited for an answer.

Carol folded her arms across her chest. "I just….I don't know. I guess it never seemed important. I always just thought of myself as a mother…a wife, a homemaker…not exactly the most exciting roles."

Rosita smiled as she moved to another table and held up a silk g-string. "Well, that's the whole reason stores like this exist…to help women embrace the sides of themselves that they're normally afraid to show."

Carol was temporarily in awe of her friend's wisdom. "Are you sure you're drunk?"

Rosita laughed, tossing the g-string to Carol. "I'm at least tipsy…and I'm right about this store. Look at those." she gestured to the bit of silk that Carol was now clutching to her chest.

Carol swallowed hard, studying the skimpy piece of fabric.

"I want you to wrap your head around the fact that any woman can wear those. So what if you're a mom, and your husband was an asshole? It doesn't mean you can't feel sexy from time to time. There's absolutely nothing wrong with doing something for yourself." said Rosita.

Carol ran her fingers over the silk as he brows knit together. "I just don't think this is me…I mean really? This barely even qualifies as underwear…I don't think that having a piece of silk…"

"Just stop!" Rosita laughed. "You're reading way too much into this. I don't accept the fact that the one-woman army, who took down Terminus, is afraid of trying on a thong."

Carol held up the g-string, almost shaking the damn thing in an effort to get her point across. "This is about 1/3 of a thong!" she laughed.

"God!" Rosita ran her hands over her face in exasperation. "Fine, forget the g-string…but I really think you should try something on…just to see how it feels. A bra, a teddy…anything. Just think about how much it would piss your husband off."

Carol chuckled at that. "Fine. But I would like to go on record saying that I think this is a poor use of our free time."

"Hey," Rosita argued. "There are very practical reasons for being in here…"

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Carol asked.

"We need underwear." said Rosita, her expression completely serious.

Carol burst out laughing. "If you can even call these scraps of fabric underwear…"

"I can and I did. Now you can keep stalling if you want, but I'm gonna look around." With that, Rosita turned away heading further into the store. She took the bag of candles with her and set one down at each of the display tables, lighting her way.

Carol was out of her depth. She decided she couldn't just stand there waiting, so she cautiously approached one of the larger tables and scanned the bras and panties that were scattered on top. After a bit of fumbling, she noticed that the table featured dozens of drawers. Carol squinted through the gloom and saw that each drawer was labeled with a specific size. She sought out her own and pulled the drawer out, studying the contents. The whole thing still seemed absurd to her, but she knew she'd never make it back down the steps on her own…she was at Rosita's mercy. "When in Rome.." she mumbled to herself as she selected a bra and lifted it from the open drawer. The straps were thin and the black cups were covered in delicate lace. She felt the insides of the cups and noticed there was a hint of cushion, or padding of some sort.

A push-up bra….

This was too much for Carol and she nearly put the thing back, but something stopped her. She thought back to all the time she'd spent hiding her body. Before the turn, she was constantly afraid of someone seeing her bruises. She hid beneath long sleeves, pants and scarves. Even in the warm months, she kept herself covered…never even daring to put on a swimsuit or don a pair of shorts. Rosita's words were echoing in her ears…

There's nothing wrong with doing something for yourself.

Maybe she'd wasted too much time hiding. She held the bra up to her chest, trying to determine whether or not it was worth trying on. Even in the gloom of the store, Carol felt herself blush. She tried to reason with herself.

You're making this harder than it has to be…we're just talking about trying on a bra. There's nothing wrong with that. It's not as if anyone is going to see you…and even if they did, it doesn't matter. You need bras either way…

It was true. The one she was wearing had all but fallen apart. The underwire was stabbing at her and the fabric had more than a few holes in it. Sighing, she held onto the bra and continued searching the display table. It was difficult to see, with the only light coming from the weak flame of the candle, but she eventually found a pair of panties that seemed to match the bra. The black, lace thong offered a bit more coverage than the g-string Rosita had shown her, but it was still more revealing than anything Carol had ever worn. Anxious to get this whole misadventure over with, she gathered her items and tried to catch up with Rosita. "Where'd you go?" she called out.

Moments later, the younger woman emerged from the back of the store. "The dressing rooms are back here." she said.

Carol followed the sound of her friend's voice and stopped short when she saw Rosita standing before her in a violet colored, lace bra. "What do you think?" she asked Carol. "Too much?"

Carol smiled at her. "You look great. See…you're young enough to get away with something like that. I shouldn't even be in here…"

Rosita sighed. "Would you stop? You can wear whatever you want. There's no age limit."

Carol rolled her eyes before heading towards one of the dressing room stalls.

"Here." Rosita called after her. She caught up with Carol, handing her a small candle and a lighter. "So you can see how it looks in the dressing room." she explained.

"What a treat." Carol quipped.

Rosita sighed again, her arms folding across her chest.

"Alright…fine." Carol chuckled as she stepped into the stall and set the candle down to light it. "I'll be right out." With that, she gently shut the door. She could hear Rosita's footsteps as the younger woman walked back to her own stall.

Once Carol was alone, she slowly began to shed her layers of clothing. She leaned back, letting one of the walls take her weight as she fumbled with her zipper. She gripped her waistband and pushed the cargo pants down, past her hips. After a brief struggle, during which she nearly lost her balance, Carol managed to pull the pants off the ends of her feet. She stared down at the plain, cotton briefs she'd always worn and took a deep breath before sliding them down her legs. Piece by piece, her clothes hit the floor…the light jacket she rarely took off, her long sleeve shirt, the dingy bra… Once she pulled the lace thong up her legs and fastened the clasp on the bra…she found that she was afraid to face the mirror. The lighting was poor…just a weak flame on a small candle, but she was still scared. Her entire life…she'd convinced herself that there was nothing worth seeing under her clothes. But she supposed she couldn't back out now. Carol was gradually adjusting to the feeling of wearing a thong and she took a moment to adjust the straps of the bra. She could feel the difference in the support…and the way that the bit of cushion in the cups lifted her breasts. It felt good…not necessarily comfortable, but there was something empowering about it. Summoning her courage, she finally made herself turn and face her reflection.

Carol's lips parted in disbelief, and she stood frozen, unable to accept the fact that the woman in the mirror was her… Even in the gloom, she could see the way her body had changed since the world turned. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her. The survivors lead very physically demanding lives, and the constant running and fighting left her with arms and legs that were toned…her stomach was flat, with a hint of definition and her waist was small. The black lace of the thong was a stark contrast to her pale skin and she saw the way the panties sat low on her slight hips. The way the bra lifted her breasts…it almost made them seem fuller, and Carol thought she looked younger overall. Her mussed hair was still growing out and she reached up, running her fingers through it in a feeble attempt to smooth it. When she lifted her arms, she saw the way her breasts rose and the tiniest hint of a smile appeared on her lips. For the first time…in a long time…or maybe even for the first time in her entire life, Carol found that she approved of the person staring back at her from the mirror.

"How's it going in there?" Rosita called out.

Carol was still in awe of her reflection. "It's…It's good…" she managed to say. "Think I might actually hang onto these…" she mused.

Rosita stepped out of her stall and tapped on Carol's door. "Let me see. I showed you mine…"

"Fine…" Carol answered, feeling slightly giddy. With a shaking hand, she slowly pulled the door open and stepped out into the small hallway.

Rosita grinned at her. "You look amazing. I knew you were hiding a body under all those clothes. You've gotta keep them."

Carol was blushing horribly; she'd never felt so exposed in her life…but the wine was making her brave…or reckless, she couldn't decide which. "I think the thong's gonna take a little getting used to."

Rosita waved her hand, dismissing the statement. "Please…after a while, you'll forget you even have it on. Wanna see what else we can find?"

Carol chuckled, "Sure." She stepped back into her stall and worked on pulling her pants back on. She could hear Rosita wandering back out into the store and she marveled at the fact that the younger woman hadn't even bothered to put her shirt back on. Carol chuckled again.

Wonder why she feels so comfortable prancing around in pants and a violet bra…it's gotta be the wine….

Carol managed to shimmy back into her pants and was reaching for her shirt when she heard a sharp scream. A jolt of adrenaline coursed through her frame, shocking her heart. There was no time to think; she yanked the door to her stall open and ran toward the source of the sound. Blood was rushing in her ears and she realized she didn't have a weapon on her, but it didn't matter. She had to help Rosita…so she stumbled through the store, preparing herself for whatever was coming. She came to a skidding halt and had to brace her hands on one of the display tables when she saw two figures silhouetted in the gloom near the checkout counter. Carol worked to catch her breath as she stared at the familiar faces.

Daryl wandered through the mall for several minutes before the sound of giggling reached his ears. He glanced up at the stairs that lead to the second story and decided to follow the sound. When he reached the top step, he scanned left, then right and noticed a faint glow coming from one of the stores. Curiosity got the best of him and he made his way toward the flickering light. As he neared his destination, the giggling seemed to get louder. His footsteps slowed to a stop when he reached the storefront and he stared up at the black sign with the big, pink letters. He kept a low growl locked in his chest. If there was anyone on earth that felt more uncomfortable in a lingerie store than Carol…it was Daryl. He ran a broad hand through his hair and considered abandoning his search…but the sound of carefree laughter was getting under his skin.

That woman ain't got a goddamn right to be laughin' about anything…

With his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his eyes narrowed to mean slits, he pushed past his own foolish fears and stepped into the store. He took note of the candles that seemed to be scattered all around.

That's what they been up here doin'? Lightin' damn candles and shoppin' for underwear?

The thought angered him. His eyes cut through the darkness, searching for movement but then another sound caught his attention. He could make out their voices now… Carol's and Rosita's…they were talking. He heard a door shut, followed by more giggling, and then there were footsteps… The hunter lingered near the checkout counter, and thought about all the things he was going to say to Carol when her happy ass finished goofing off. It never even occurred to him, in his drunken state…that following two women, who were also drunk, into a lingerie store, might have negative consequences. He was too absorbed in his own petty frustrations to consider how Carol and Rosita might react to an invasion of their privacy. So he scuffed his boot on the floor and rapped his knuckles on the checkout counter, waiting.

Rosita had a smile on her face as she hurried back to the display tables. She was proud of Carol for stepping out of her comfort zone and was eager to grab more things for her friend to try on before the woman lost her nerve and changed her mind. She nearly lost her footing as she came around a corner in an attempt to get to the front of the store. When she regained her balance and looked up, a scream burst from her lips and the young woman's hands flew to her chest as she did her best to cover herself. "What the hell are you doing here?!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Daryl was at a loss. He certainly wasn't expecting Rosita to come around that corner in nothing put pants and a bra. He cursed, turning away, color rushing to his cheeks. With his eyes trained on the ground, the hunter bit out the only words he could summon. "I was lookin' for Carol."

"Jesus Christ Daryl!" She spat at him.

Before either of them could say anything else, Carol came skidding to halt near one of the display tables. "What's going…." but the words died in Carol's throat when she saw the intruder.

Daryl couldn't help it; he wasn't thinking. He looked up when he heard her voice and caught a fleeting glimpse of the black bra she was wearing. The two were in shock as they stared at one another, and it took Carol a moment to realize that Daryl was getting an unobstructed view of her chest. Mastering herself, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. She waited a few seconds for her breathing to slow. When the blood stopped rushing in her ears, she made herself say something. Someone had to break the incredibly uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the three of them. "You wanna tell me what it is you're doing here?" she asked, a definite edge to her voice.

Daryl stared at the floor; he was afraid to look anywhere else. "Could ask ya the same thing…" he growled.

Both women grew visibly upon hearing the hunter's statement. "Not that it's any of your business…but me and Rosita felt like blowing off some steam." said Carol, her head cocked to one side as she continued to glare at him. "Now what's your excuse?"

"I was lookin' for ya…" he muttered.

"Why?" Carol asked, genuinely confused.

"Got some shit on my mind…" he snapped, finally lifting his chin and meeting her gaze.

"Daryl…" Carol sighed, "I'm sure whatever it is…it can wait until tomorrow. Would you mind getting out of here so we can get dressed?"

The hunter's temper was getting the best of him…and the bourbon was clouding his judgment. He knew he should leave the two women alone and stumble back to his bed to sleep off the effects of the liquor, but he was agitated and didn't plan on leaving the store with his tail tucked between his legs…just because Carol and Rosita yelled at him. So instead of retreating, he took a step in Carol's direction, his eyes trained on her face.

Rosita couldn't believe that way the hunter was acting. "Daryl…get the hell out of here!" she yelled.

He glanced at her, his upper lip curling back in anger. "This don't concern you…" he snarled.

The young woman was taken aback by the hostility in his voice and began to grow concerned for her friend. "Carol…" she pleaded, but the other woman held up one hand, warding off any additional comments.

"It's fine Rosita. You should grab your clothes and go. I think Daryl and I need to have a chat."

The younger woman's eyes were wide with fear. "But…"

"It's fine." Carol repeated. "I promise. His bark is worse than his bite. Go on."

Daryl bristled at the statement.

Rosita didn't know what to do. She glanced nervously from Daryl to Carol. She knew that the two had been part of the same group for a long time, and that they could handle one another, but she was still afraid of leaving Carol with the brooding hunter.

"Rosita…" said Carol, as she tried to remain relatively level-headed. "We'll be alright here. You should get dressed."

Unsure of what else to say, the younger woman moved away from her companions and hurried to the back of the store to retrieve her shirt. Daryl and Carol were left staring at one another, each of them silently daring the other to say something. They kept their eyes locked on one another, even when Rosita reemerged from the fitting room, fully clothed. She paused, just feet away from Carol, and tried to speak, but Carol just waved a hand, urging the younger woman to leave. As Rosita walked quickly out of the store, Carol called after her. "Ignore any yelling you might hear."

Daryl and Carol waited for the sound of the girls' footsteps to fade before either of them said anything. "So…" said Carol, her arms still folded across her chest. "What's so important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow?" She slowly began walking around the circular display table that sat between her and the hunter.

Daryl mimicked her actions, circling the same table, his eyes never leaving hers. "Wanted to talk to ya.."

Carol snorted. "You never wanna talk…"

The hunter clenched his fists just a little tighter as the two of them continued to walk around the table, eyeing one another. "I do now. 'N I ain't goin' nowhere neither…not till your happy ass hears me out."

Carol snorted again. "You're drunk."

Daryl glared at her. "And you ain't?"

"All the more reason to save this discussion for another time." she said.

But Daryl shook his head.

She sighed. "Well go ahead then; say what you came here to say…unless you wanna keep going in circles." The irony of the statement made her smirk and she realized that the wine really had gone to her head.

The two stopped suddenly and Daryl leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. "I wanna know how the hell you're doin' it…"

Carol's brows knit together as she studied him. "Doing what?"

The hunter growled out of frustration. "Goin' on…actin' like everything's fine when it ain't."

Carol's arms were still folded across her chest. "I'm not acting." she hissed. "I know damn well things aren't fine…they haven't been for a while. But I don't think that sitting around and moping is going to help…"

Daryl could feel his temperature rising as rage bubbled inside him. He pushed away from the table and walked around it until he was standing in front of her. "Mopin'….that what you think I'm doin'?" He asked, the words coming out in rough growls. "Just sittin' on my ass mopin'?"

Carol could feel the hostility rolling off of him, like body heat, but he didn't scare her. She'd weathered his storms more times than she could count and she knew that he was just looking for an outlet. Normally, she would let him rage without offering up a single word of opposition, but the wine had loosened her lips. "I think you're wasting time agonizing over something you can't change…" she said, with as much conviction as she could muster.

"Wastin' time?" he echoed bitterly, moving even closer to her.

She stood her ground but she could feel goose bumps breaking out on her skin. "Convince me that I'm wrong." she said, licking her lips.

Daryl was dumbfounded. She never argued with him…He hadn't expected her to challenge him. "You think ya got me figured out then…that it?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Carol met his gaze. "I told you what I think…"

"You don't know shit…" he growled, losing himself in a moment of anger and shoving her in the shoulder.

Carol couldn't believe his audacity. She'd made a silent vow to herself, the instant she buried the axe in her husband's skull, that she would never allow another man to put his hands on her in anger. When Daryl pushed her, the action seemed to wake something inside Carol and she reacted in kind, shoving him back with an aggression neither of them knew she possessed. "Don't touch me…" she breathed, her narrowed eyes cutting through the dark as she stared at him. Her chest rose and fell and she swallowed hard, waiting for him to say something.

Daryl was stunned…he wasn't sure he recognized the woman in front of him. Her eyes were burning blue, almost glowing in the dark and she was staring at him with an intensity that he could almost feel against his skin. The rational part of his brain, which had all but ceased to function the moment he started drinking bourbon, knew that he'd crossed a line. Carol had a violent past, and he should never have touched her. But something in her tone and her stance made him think that she was challenging him. It had become a battle of wills and neither of them wanted to be the first to leave the store. Daryl's breathing had picked up and he wasn't going to let her win. "Think ya had too much…" he said, moving towards her again.

"It's none of your damn business how much I had…" she snapped, taking a step back.

The glow from the candles was illuminating the two survivors, making them both appear sinister in the gloomy store. "Ya think I'm wastin' time?" he growled, his voice husky. "While you're runnin' around in your goddamn underwear?" He took another purposeful step in her direction and she backed away.

Carol swallowed hard again. "Like I said…" she kept her eyes on his. "We just came up here to blow off some steam…we weren't expecting company." She was slowly retreating, trying not to stumble.

The hunter continued to advance, undaunted by her anger. "Ya'll ain't got no business wanderin' 'round this place at night…alone. Ain't even got a weapon on ya." His eyes flicked to her waist where her knife usually hung.

Carol faltered when she felt her back hit a wall. Her mouth was going dry as she watched him get closer. Panicking, she lashed out in an attempt to shove him away but he caught her wrists and gripped them hard making her gasp. Daryl wasn't entirely sure of what was taking place but he couldn't let her push him again…she'd pushed him far enough. When he saw her arms move, he grabbed her pale wrists, stopping her. They were both breathing hard as he moved into her space and pinned her arms to the wall above her head. The action was so sudden…so unexpected, and Carol closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to process all the sensations that were battling for her attention. A strange thrill was coursing through her and she nearly gave in, submitting to him…but she mastered herself and began to fight again. She was struggling to free herself from his grip but she couldn't find the words to tell him to let go.

The hunter's eyes were fixed on hers as he watched her struggle. There was something fascinating about knowing that she couldn't get away. She was resisting, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tried to break free. Now that he was so close to her, Daryl could smell her hair…her skin. The scent was making his mind hazy and he found himself staring at her chest. With the faint, orange light from the candle, the hunter could see the soft curves of her breasts and the shadowed dip in her cleavage. The black bra seemed startlingly dark against her skin and the straps were so thin… When he pinned her slender arms above her head, the action lifted her breasts and he was suddenly fascinated…watching them rise and fall with every breath she took. Daryl could feel his mouth going dry as he stared.

Carol wasn't sure what had come over him, but she felt his grip loosen just slightly and she seized the opportunity to pull her arms free. She didn't give him time to think about it as she scrambled to get away. The hunter's trance was broken the instant she moved. Pivoting on his heel he lunged after her, his arms reaching out, but missing her by inches. He growled at the miss, unsure of why she was fleeing or why he was chasing her. But the space was small and she stumbled in her haste. When their eyes met again, she was leaning against one of the tables, her hands gripping it nervously. He held her gaze and moved towards her. As he stared at the woman he'd known for so long, Daryl couldn't help but feel that he was seeing her for the first time. The liquor warming his blood, and the fact that she was half-dressed, seemed to complicate everything. He couldn't make himself leave the store. His eyes roamed Carol's frame, from her tight, pale stomach, to the black bra that held her breasts. As he continued to stare, he was dimly aware of a change taking place in his body.

Carol couldn't begin to describe the feeling of seeing him come towards her. He was intensely focused on her…his face baring the same expression he wore when he hunted…and it was unnerving. Carol knew that if she tried, she could get away. She was fast, and he was probably too drunk to chase her very far, but something was keeping her rooted to the spot. She was anxious and didn't know what would happen when he reached her. She was at once frightened and intrigued. So she clutched at the edge of the table and waited.

When he was finally standing in front of her, he cleared his throat and made himself speak. "How are ya doin' it?" he asked, his voice like gravel…his eyes drinking her in.

"Doing what?" she asked, swallowing hard.

He leaned in, bracing his hands on the table, on either side of her body…trapping her all over again. "Copin'." he growled softly.

She seemed to notice, for the first time, how close he was. She studied his face, the features that were so familiar to her…his mouth, the line of his jaw, the shocks of dark hair that hung in his eyes… "I…" she started to speak but couldn't finish the thought. Hoping to clear her head, Carol shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the round table, her eyes now level with his as they stared at each other. "I've been trying to keep myself distracted…" she whispered.

Daryl liked the way those hushed words sounded and he leaned in closer, his eyes on her mouth. "How?" he asked.

Carol's heart was beating furiously and her head was swimming. They were openly staring at one another, and a strange heat was building between them. Their bodies were so close but suddenly, Carol wanted to be closer. Before either of them could overthink the action, Carol's legs parted slightly and she reached for Daryl's shirt, clutching it tightly in her fist. Daryl growled, dipping his head to bite the tender skin at the base of her neck. She used her grip on his shirt to pull him closer, and when she opened her legs, he moved to stand between them. His strong hands went to her hips. While he continued to assault her neck, Carol scooted closer to the edge of the table, wanting her body to be flush with his. Her eyes were closed as she savored the feeling of his mouth on her neck and she was clawing desperately at the front of his shirt. Soft groans escaped them both as they began to lose themselves. Daryl bit down on her shoulder, making her hips buck. Carol's eyes flew open when she felt his erection pressing against her core. A need she never knew she had was suddenly raging inside her and she couldn't form the words to tell him. Hungry for contact and pressure, Carol reached for his hair and pulled the hunter's mouth to hers.

He let her lead him, his mouth opening for her as she slipped her tongue under his. The feeling of kissing her was maddening. Her lips were so soft, pliant…and her mouth was so wet. She tasted like wine and he never wanted her to stop. His own insecurities seemed to disappear as her tongue massaged his.

Without realizing it, Carol had lifted her legs…winding them around his waist to keep their bodies pressed together. She could feel his need, straining beneath his clothes, and it was making her core hurt. She wanted more. While he was distracted by her mouth, Carol used her nimble fingers to work on the buttons of his shirt. He trembled slightly when he felt her fingertips brush the bare skin of his stomach, but he had no intentions of stopping her. Instead, he focused on the sheer pleasure she was bringing him. Her hips continued to rock weakly against him and she sucked at his tongue with an intensity that was almost painful. He marveled at the fact that she could do all these things and still find a way to unbutton his shirt. When she pushed the last button through the hole, she released his mouth and they both gasped for air. Their eyes locked as she moved to push the vest off his shoulders. He helped her, shrugging off the layers, and then ridding himself of the battered shirt. She smirked when she heard the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. He smirked back at her, his hands going to the clasp of her bra as he worked to unfasten it. "Wait…" she breathed, licking her lips and tasting him there.

He stared at Carol, his chest rising and falling in time with hers.

"Maybe we shouldn't…" she whispered, her hips still grinding against him…and her hands splaying on his chest.

Daryl's head was cocked to the side as he studied her. The hunter found the statement amusing and continued to work on her clasp. When he felt the ends spring apart, he slid the bra down her arms and it joined his clothes on the floor. Without waiting for permission, he placed his large hands on her breasts, squeezing slightly. The reaction was instantaneous as Carol rocked her hips and arched her back into his touch…her nails clawing at his chest. "God…" she groaned, her eyes closing.

Daryl nipped at her neck again. "Thought ya said we shouldn't…" he teased, his hands gently massaging her breasts. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and enjoyed the feeling of him touching her.

"I just…" she could hardly breathe when his thumbs brushed her nipples. "I thought one of us should say it…just so it's on record…"

He smirked against the side of her neck. "That right?" he asked, squeezing her just a little harder.

She moaned, her legs tightening around his waist. "I mean…this is…we're drunk…it's…"

Daryl bucked against her and tugged weakly at her nipples. "Ain't too drunk to do it right." he growled into her shoulder.

Carol shivered when she felt those husky words hit her skin. As his hands continued to explore her chest, her core was growing slick. She quickly realized that pushing her hips into his wasn't going to be enough. She was nearly whining as she unlocked her legs and slid off the table, standing in front of him. Daryl took a shaky step back, giving her room. "Whatcha doin'? he asked, a smirk still on his mouth.

She stared at the trail of dark hair below his navel and found that she wanted to trace it with her tongue. But then her eyes went back to his face as she watched him watching her. With the dark, tangled hair plastered to his brow, and his blue eyes fixed on her, she tried to recall if he'd always been that sexy. Before she could lose herself in hazy thoughts, Carol's hands went to the button on her pants. Her fingers were shaking and her mouth had gone dry, but she needed to keep going. There was no time to stop and process the fact that they'd kissed…that just seconds ago his chapped lips had been pressed against hers and they'd tasted each other…his hands had been on her body…

Daryl…

It was all too much, too soon. She didn't even know how they'd wound up like this…half dressed and panting in a lingerie store. She supposed the alcohol was largely to blame…they would never behave like this otherwise, at least Carol thought they wouldn't…. Not the two of them. Carol was never reckless. She planned, she analyzed… She was always considering every angle and calculating possible outcomes. She kept her eyes open and her weapons close, never allowing anyone or anything to overtake her. Despite all the instincts that had kept her safe and alive since the world turned, Carol found herself getting lost…tangled up in something she couldn't name…but it was real, at least it felt real…and for the moment, it was all that mattered. There was warm blood rushing beneath her skin, making her feel feverish, and the only thing that might help was the man standing in front of her. Carol needed him…she didn't know why… She wanted to feel his sweat on her fingertips and clutch his hair in her fists. There was something alarming about suddenly seeing sexual potential in someone who'd been a friend, teammate, and guardian for so long…but she didn't care. For once in her miserable life, Carol wasn't going to waste time over thinking and worrying…they were healthy, unattached, consenting adults with no one to answer to… They had a chance to experience actual release and Carol intended to seize the opportunity. Consequences were unimportant, for the time being, and, she was finally going to let go…she would take him, collide with him, and reveal a side of herself that she'd always kept hidden. With her chest rising and falling, and her heart pounding mercilessly against her ribs, Carol tugged at the zipper and pushed her pants down her hips.

Daryl's mind was reeling as he watched her. He didn't know what was happening, or what had come over the two of them, but it was too late to turn back. He supposed that he was still in some sort of shock, after kissing her. Carol had become so strong…she was a capable fighter, and fiercely independent. It was difficult for the hunter to accept that beneath her hard edges, Carol was still a woman with basic needs. The fact that he would be the one satisfying her needs, or attempting to, was even harder to process… It wasn't as if they didn't have a connection. They'd grown close since their first meeting at the quarry; they trusted one another…which wasn't something that Daryl took lightly. But this? The hunter couldn't even recall the last time he'd let himself think about sex. It didn't seem important, after the turn, and he'd done just fine without it. What mattered was staying alive, waking up safe and in one piece each morning… But as he felt the blood pouring into the lower half of his body, he couldn't deny the high it was giving him… The bourbon was coursing through his veins, bolstering his confidence and convincing him that he could have her. He watched, through dreamy eyes, as she pushed the pants down her legs and stepped out of them. In his daze, Daryl couldn't help but marvel at the fact that his friend seemed to have disappeared, leaving an entirely different woman in her place. The person standing before him now…in nothing more than a pair of black panties, surely couldn't be the same woman who'd helped the group escape Terminus… The hunter stood dumbfounded, his mind struggling with that concept.

Once Carol rid herself of the pants, she felt terribly exposed. She hugged herself, her slender arms folding across her bare chest, in a feeble attempt to conceal what she'd already shown him. The thought struck her as silly and she smirked to herself. She was waiting for him to do something…to say something…but he seemed frozen in place. His eyes were roaming from her feet, all the way up her body until their gazes met. He swallowed hard, but still wouldn't move. Carol glanced at the undeniable evidence of his arousal, visible below his waist, and realized that she needed to help him.

He wants to…he's just lost…

Taking the initiative, Carol moved towards him. She could feel her nerves building with each step, but she had to keep going. When she stood in front of him, Carol kept her eyes on his, silently asking permission before her hands moved to his waistband. He looked drugged as he stared at her, his lids heavy. She'd had a plan when she first moved towards him…she was going to get his clothes off…it should've been simple…but with his body so close to hers, and his scent clouding her judgment, she seemed to forget who she was…where she was… They were lost in a haze of lust and liquor, and they needed a moment to drink each other in. Slowly, carefully, Carol placed her hands on his chest. He tensed for a moment, but then reached for her wrists, gently holding her in place. They both fought to control their breathing as Carol leaned in, placing a soft kiss to his collar bone. The reaction was automatic as Daryl ducked his head, nuzzling the side of her face. Carol smiled at the feeling of his scruff against her skin. She could hear him inhale as he pulled the scent of her hair into his lungs and before she knew what she was doing, she bit down, her teeth catching his collar bone and applying a hint of pressure. The sensation seemed to spark something in Daryl and he grunted, tugging at one of her wrists…pulling her down and guiding her until she was cupping his manhood. A small gasp escaped her when she felt the hardness straining beneath his pants. Daryl kept a growl locked behind his lips as he hid in the crook of her neck. After the initial shock wore off, Carol didn't need much urging. She gave him a gentle squeeze and started running her hand up and down the fabric, following the outline of his erection. She could feel him panting into her shoulder as she increased her pace, rubbing him harder, and faster. His hips began bucking weakly into her hand and Carol sensed that she needed to stop. She ran her palm along his length one last time, making him shiver, and then eased their bodies apart just slightly. Feeling strangely playful, she glanced at his now larger erection before staring up into his eyes. Daryl's hands went to her breasts, kneading the soft flesh, while her hands slid back up to his chest. His tongue darted out over his chapped lips and Carol leaned in kissing him. He groaned into her mouth, squeezing her breasts harder. His hips continued to buck as his body sought the release he knew she could give him. When they broke apart she was smirking at him. "Maybe we shouldn't…" she whispered.

For half a heartbeat, the hunter felt his blood run cold. His lips parted in disbelief and a crease was forming in his brow. In desperation, he searched the recesses of his cluttered mind for an excuse…a reason…anything that might convince her to keep going. But it was no use…he was too far gone to try and argue with her, all the blood had rushed to his groin. His fingers were curling, clutching the tender flesh as if she might be torn away from him at any moment.

Carol couldn't maintain the rouse any longer. The look of absolute fear and disappointment on his face broke her resolve. She kissed him quickly on the lips and then chuckled. Her actions only added to Daryl's confusion. "I was just joking…" she whispered, laughing lightly. "I have no intention of stop…." but he didn't let her finish. He was half-crazed with want and he needed to make her understand. With his narrowed eyes trained on her face, he began moving, forcing her to walk backwards until the backs of her legs hit the table she'd been leaning on moments ago. But the hunter didn't stop. He placed a broad hand on the center of her chest and pushed her roughly onto her back. Carol gasped and then felt him gripping her hips. He made sure her legs were parted and he stood between them as he pulled her body towards the edge of the table. When her core was finally pressed against his erection, he groaned. Carol had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. His grip on her legs was so strong and the way he forced her onto her back made her want to give into him. Their eyes met as she stared up at him…her captor. He was looking back at her with a hunger that was almost frightening. She arched her back, causing her pelvis to brush his. He snarled, leaning over her and she quickly locked her legs around him. His body came down on hers and he kissed her hard, his hips bucking against her core. Carol worried that the table might give out beneath them, but there was nothing she could do…He was standing between her legs, gripping her hips, while the rest of his body loomed over her. Their kisses weren't sweet, or chaste…they wanted to consume one another. He forced his tongue into her mouth and she sucked it, feeling his hips jerk in response. They explored each other, tasting and feeling as much as they could. Lips were caught between teeth, and tongues slid past one another as the two survivors lost themselves. He was bringing her such pleasure, with his mouth alone, that Carol wondered if she could even handle anything else. She loved the feeling of his scruff brushing her skin, the long, tangled locks of hair that hung around his face, the smell of sweat, smoke and worn leather that was surrounding her…the way he bit at her lips, tugging the tender flesh, making it swell… All the while, his hips were bucking into hers as his need grew stronger. Carol raked her nails down his back, making him snarl again, and that was when she realized that she needed more. Everything he did…every sound he made seemed to bring her body to life and he was stirring something inside her…some primal side of herself that she'd never revealed to anyone. It was as if she'd finally woken from some deep sleep, only to find herself filled with a crippling desire for carnal pleasure. Succumbing to her own selfish needs, Carol pushed against his chest and sat up suddenly.

Daryl reluctantly eased back, letting her breathe. Panting, and sweating, they eyed one another through the dark. "Why'd ya stop?" the hunter managed to ask, his chest heaving.

Carol had one hand resting on his slick chest while the other was gripping his neck…her legs were still wrapped around him and she could feel his hard member through his pants. "I want it…" she breathed. "But not like this…"

Daryl didn't understand. It was difficult to form rational thoughts with a nearly naked woman pressed up against him. But he sensed she wasn't teasing this time…there was an edge to her voice and an urgency in her hushed tone.

With a grunt, Carol pushed him away and eased her legs down. The hunter took a shaky step back and waited, his heart hammering in his chest. She moved carefully, sliding off the table. As she stood in front of him, on legs that were surprisingly weak, Carol met his gaze. She wondered if he could see what she was thinking. Knowing that she needed to show him, and that there could be no more waiting, she let her eyes linger on his for half a second longer before stepping past him.

He watched her closely and had to fight to keep from reaching out and grabbing her as she walked past him…but he waited her out. She moved until she'd reached another round display table. With her back to him, Carol slowly leaned over the table. With the front half of her body supported by her elbows, she turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Like this." she said, her voice hushed and thick with lust. She bit her bottom lip, holding it between her teeth as she waited for him to act.

It was in that moment, as he watched her slender frame bending over that table and heard those whispered words leave her lips, that Daryl had to question everything. He didn't know if any of it was real…how could it be? He didn't understand how this woman could possibly be the same person he'd fought alongside of for the last two years. But when he saw the way she was biting her lip, he realized the answers to those questions didn't matter. All that mattered was the way she was looking at him…and the skin she had on display for him. His eyes roamed from her face, down her spine, and finally to her panties…but they weren't panties… She was wearing a thong. Daryl's lips parted and he felt moisture beading at the tip of his cock. He hadn't noticed it before…he'd been distracted by her soft breasts and her sweet, wet mouth…but now, he couldn't stop staring at it. The lace was so dark against her pale skin and he couldn't quite handle the way the fabric revealed so much of her ass. She wasn't leaving much to the imagination, and he didn't want her to.

Fuckin' christ…

It took several seconds before he realized what was happening. She was waiting on him. She told him what she wanted…how she wanted it, and now she was waiting for him. Feeling his mouth go dry at the thought, he slowly began walking towards her. She was smirking at him, over her shoulder and she shuddered when he reached out, hesitantly placing his hands on her hips. He was working to control his breathing as his hands slid up, along her sides, and then moved back down to her waist. His touch was light, cautious, and he left a trail of goose bumps in his wake. A soft groan escaped her and Daryl couldn't help himself; he bucked against her ass, his grip tightening on her body as he held her in place. "Fuck…" he breathed.

Carol felt herself grow wet the instant he pushed himself against her body. She couldn't wait anymore. She pushed back, feeling his erection pressed to her ass. They both groaned and Carol reached back in a clumsy attempt to grab hold of the thong and slide it down, but Daryl caught her wrist, stopping her. He leaned over her and growled softly into her ear. "Leave it on." She swallowed hard and managed a weak nod as more wetness hit her core.

Daryl didn't want to release her hips, but he knew that he needed to move forward. With as much self control as he could muster, he took a step back, and reached for his belt. His fingers were sweaty and shaking; he fumbled with the buckle for several seconds before he was able to unfasten it and yank the worn leather through his belt loops. When Carol heard the clang of metal hitting the floor, she groaned again. Daryl tried to work faster…his fingers working on the button to his pants and then carefully tugging the zipper down. He hissed once his cock was free and he could feel the pants slipping low on his hips.

Carol wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. Her nails were clawing at the silky cloth that covered the display table and her teeth were still sinking into her lip. Breathing hard, Daryl reached for the thong and pushed the crotch aside to reveal her entrance. Carol's body jerked in response but he growled softly to her. "Easy…"

She tried to listen, to relax…but the knowledge that he could now see the most intimate part of her was a little unnerving. Even in his drunken state, Daryl knew it had been a long time for both of them and he wanted to make sure she was ready. While one hand held the lacy fabric out of the way, the hunter traced her slit slowly with his middle finger. Carol was ready to cry out of frustration but she held herself in check. Daryl closed his eyes, groaning at the wetness he'd found between her legs. He let his finger slide along her core until he found the source of the moisture. Carol's body tensed and he knew he'd reached his goal. Pulling a deep breath into his lungs, he slipped his finger inside her. She cursed, arching her back, urging him to explore. Wanting to prepare her, he began moving his finger slowly, in and out of her sex. The more he moved, the more wetness seeped from her. Losing himself, he began moving faster, loving the sounds she made in response. When she moaned, he pushed a second finger into her heat. "More…" she pleaded, bucking weakly, riding his fingers. The hunter's breathing was ragged as he pushed his fingers in harder and then spread them in V shape, forcing her to open wider for him. "Do it…" she begged. "Please…"

Daryl knew what she needed…what they both needed. He slipped his fingers out of her pussy and used his free hand to grip his cock. He took another deep breath, held the thong out of the way and pushed the head of his member against her entrance.

"God…" Carol whined. "Right there…"

He growled, pushing harder. He could feel her wetness moving around the blunt head of his cock, helping him as he worked his way inside. It was difficult…she was so tight and her body was resisting, the tension almost pushing him out, but he needed to be inside her. Gritting his teeth, he jerked his hips, forcing his manhood into her core. Carol's entire body went rigid and her eyes were slammed shut. She hung her head, trying to process the feeling of him between her legs.

Daryl needed a moment…he figured they both did. Now that he was buried in her sex, he released the thong and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table, on either side of Carol's body. He bowed his head, kissing and nipping at her shoulder as he adjusted to the feeling of all that warmth and pressure surrounding his cock. His scruff tickled her shoulder and Carol smiled in the dark, her walls squeezing him.

"Ya alright?" he breathed against her skin.

She turned her head, smiling at him. "I'm great." she whispered.

He smirked at her and got closer, their lips meeting for a quick kiss. But the slight contact wasn't enough. Carol braced herself against the table and pushed back, making him growl. He countered her movement, jerking forward, his hips ramming into her ass. She clawed desperately at the cloth beneath her, a curse flying from her lips. "Fuck…"

It was all the encouragement Daryl needed. He moved his strong hands to her hips, gripping her hard and holding her in place as he started to move. Her walls were clinging to his shaft, not wanting to let him go, but he pulled back anyway, nearly leaving her core empty. He let the blunt tip rest just inside her entrance, savoring the way she tensed around him. He could feel more wetness leaking from her and knew he needed to act. Widening his stance, just slightly, and gnawing his bottom lip, the hunter thrust himself back inside, making her scream. The sound was intoxicating and he loved the way he could slide into her center until his pelvis was pressed to her ass. The friction of the lace against his cock was incredible and he wanted more. He paused, savoring the feeling of being inside her…but Carol was impatient.

"Don't stop…" she moaned, her back arching again. "Just fuck me…"

Daryl felt her soft walls tighten around his shaft and had to fight to keep from coming right then. "Spread your legs…" he growled, strands of dark hair hanging in his eyes.

Carol groaned, doing as she was told. She would give him whatever he wanted.

The hunter's fingers were still curling around her hips, keeping her in place. His lips parted when he felt her walls opening. The moment she spread her long, toned legs, he felt the added space in her core and wanted desperately to fill it. With his grip secure, and his cock throbbing, Daryl bucked hard against her ass, snarling as he slipped deeper into her wet heat. Somewhere in his haze, the hunter realized that he'd never been bare inside a woman before. The feeling was almost overwhelming. Her slickness eased the way as he pushed in and pulled back, over and over, working her body…pleasuring her as best he could. Each time he sank back into her pussy, he could feel the lace rubbing his shaft and it made him shiver. Eager to go as deep as he could, he gripped the firm flesh of her ass and tried to spread her, opening her body…

Carol felt the air leave her lungs each time he thrust his cock inside. Her nails were clawing through the fabric that covered the table and her legs were shaking. She wished that she could see him…watch his face as he fucked her…but she couldn't deny the pleasure of being taken from behind. She felt like an animal, lost in heat and lust. The fact that she couldn't see him meant that all of her focus was on the sensations…the feeling of him moving inside her and his nails digging into the flesh of her ass..her hips…The way he filled her core…the veins on his swollen shaft pressing against her walls. He felt so thick, almost heavy and she couldn't believe the way he could move his strong hips. The motion between her legs was fluid…Daryl never seemed to slow or lose momentum. She could hear him grunting with each thrust and wondered how long he would last. She wanted so badly to come while he was inside her. The way his member filled her…he almost seemed to own her. Carol arched her back, feeling him slide into her center. She never realized it was possible for a man to penetrate a woman so deeply. He was hitting the top of her and she slammed her eyes shut, hissing when she felt him pull back, that long cock slipping from her sex with ease, she nearly growled.

The hunter stared down at his partner. She was panting and groaning as he pulled his dick from her pussy. As much as he loved being inside her, Daryl couldn't resist the urge to toy with her. He gripped his manhood, stroking it, feeling the slickness that coated it. He didn't intend to lose his erection while he teased Carol.

She glanced over her shoulder, and saw him tugging at his cock; his eyes were locked on her face. She didn't understand. "Wh…what are you doing?" she breathed, her body vibrating.

Daryl reached up, wiping a bit of sweat from above his lip while his other hand continued to stroke his member. "Was thinkin'….maybe we shouldn't…" he said, the corner of his mouth hitched up in a smirk.

Carol's lips parted in disbelief. Swallowing her pride, she kept her blue on his face and pleaded with him. "I can't stop…I need it…" she tried to catch her breath. "I need you."

The hunter gave his cock another good pull before pushing the now damp lace out of the way and guiding himself back to her entrance. "Tell me…." he growled, rubbing the tip along her slit.

Carol couldn't believe the way he was acting. She was beyond physically frustrated and she didn't have a choice. Arching her back and pushing against his manhood she moaned. "I need you."

Daryl smirked, forcing himself inside again, his hands returning to her hips. "This what ya need?" he breathed, thrusting hard.

Her insides trembled around his shaft and she cried out. "Yes! That's it…please…"

Daryl was done playing. The tip of his tongue was resting between his lips as he set a fast pace, creating a strong, steady rhythm inside her. His hips continued to collide with her ass and he held her in place, taking her the way he wanted to. Her pussy was so tight and she seemed to only get tighter…her passage narrowing around his throbbing cock, but he had no intentions of slowing down. Even in the dark, he could look down and watch his dick disappear in her sex. He was mesmerized as he watched the shaft slip in and out of her tight body. He could feel himself stretching her as he pulsed and he knew it wouldn't be long. He had to focus or he would come. Bucking harder, and faster, he tried to find the spot that held her tension. He knew he could…he was so deep in her pussy, there wasn't a part of her he couldn't reach. The friction of the lace, the pressure of her walls and the wetness that continued to seep from inside her…it was all too much and the hunter had to fight through it. Filled with a sudden desire to control the woman underneath him, Daryl leaned forward…the action drove him further into her center and she cursed. He reached out, gripping her neck, and forced her down onto the table. With her cheek pressed to the silky cloth, Carol groaned. He felt her walls opening again.

She likes it…

With one hand still curled around the back of her neck, he kept her down while his hips continued to thrust. His other hand remained on her hip, keeping her ass pressed against his pelvis. He stared down at her, fascinated by her submission. As his body worked hard to satisfy her, sweat dripped from the ends of his hair, the salty droplets hitting her back. Her skin was slick, almost glowing in the dark and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to hold back. Each time her pussy clenched around him, he was tempted to come. All that wet warmth wrapped around his manhood was causing his resolve to crumble…

Carol was sure she'd never felt anything better than Daryl's cock pounding into her center…until he grabbed her neck. His strong grip gave her an incredible high and she nearly climaxed when he pushed her down to rest on the table. Whatever control he wanted…he could have. As long as he kept moving his hips, and his shaft stayed hard, she didn't care what else he did. She spread her legs a fraction wider, letting him sink into her heat. His member was so rigid that it almost hurt her, but she wanted it. She wanted every last inch that he could give her. He'd set a furious pace between her legs and she had no plans to stop him. Her clit was throbbing and her legs were trembling…muscles tensing around his member. "God…" she cried, her eyes still closed.

Daryl was lost in her sex…the smell of her sweat, the feeling of her pussy, the way her firm ass felt in his grip. He could hear her crying out, moaning, cursing and begging each time he pushed himself into her…but he still hadn't broken her. "Christ!" he snarled, ramming his hips against her ass and feeling the wetness glide around his aching cock. He needed release, quickly…. He squeezed her neck just a bit harder and felt her clench around him. His eyes widened at the realization.

She needs more…

He kept pushing and pulling, moving in and out of her increasingly tight passage. He growled, throwing his entire body into the motion as he fucked her. He moved faster, thrusting his hard-on as deep as it could go…again, and again, and again… She was coming undone underneath him but he had to be sure. So he jerked his hips as he stood behind her, feeling more like a man than he ever had in his life. He was fucking his woman, the way that he wanted to…the way that she wanted him to and the knowledge only compounded his own pleasure. The head of his cock continued to tighten…moisture forming at the tip, and his shaft was throbbing almost painfully within the confines of her sex. He moved back and forth, pushing her as hard as he could and his grip grew tighter around her neck. With his teeth clenched and all his muscles tensing, he gave her a strong, sudden, thrust that sent his manhood into the deepest part of her core. When he hit her spot, he released her neck, both of his hands returning to her hips so that he had leverage to keep fucking her.

Carol's eyes widened and she gasped. There was a feeling of intense euphoria as a spasm hit her core, nearly paralyzing her. Her legs were shaking violently and the muscles in her core seemed to flutter. She groaned into the silky cloth and arched her back, inviting him in. There was a stifling warmth between her weak legs and she was dimly aware of a gush of wetness coating Daryl's member. She could hear him cursing, and feel his nails digging into her skin…but none of that mattered. She was experiencing the most incredible high of her life… Carol felt weightless as the orgasm rocked her. Warm waves of crippling pleasure rushed through her, one after the other, making her weak…they rolled through her body, erasing all of her tension. She was fighting to breathe…a single, hushed word falling from between her lips… "Yes…"

It took the hunter a moment to realize that he'd broken her. He saw the way the cloth was clutched tightly in her fists and then he felt the wetness hit his manhood, leaving no room for doubt. Knowing that he brought her pleasure seemed to make him dizzy. His lids were heavy and his mouth was open as he continued to thrust. The only thing he could be sure of was the way her walls felt as they constricted around him. He kept moving, feeling weaker every time… he couldn't handle the way her sex gripped him. From her place on the table, Carol whispered to him. "Let go." Her eyes were closed in ecstasy and there was a faint smile on her lips, but he heard her. "I wanna feel it.." she added, using the last of her strength to push back against him. As her body moved back, he growled, jerking forward. He was gripping her hips so tightly, holding her body against him as his orgasm rushed forward, spilling from his cock and coating her walls. His mouth was still open as he bucked weakly, emptying his seed inside her. He let her soft walls caress his throbbing member, coaxing the pleasure from him. Daryl groaned, thrusting into her just a few more times until his aching dick finally finished spurting. "Jesus…" he breathed, feeling himself go soft inside her.

They both winced as he slipped from her. The combined effects of powerful orgasms and strong liquor made them unsteady on their feet and Daryl stumbled to the floor, dragging her with him. Carol was still gripping the silky cloth, and it came down on top of them, along with dozens of pairs of panties that had been scattered on top of the table.

Carol couldn't help it; she was still in a state of drunken, euphoria and she started giggling. They were both lying on the cold floor, their sweaty bodies tangled in the silky, pink table cloth, and lacy underwear all around them. She brought one hand up to cup her forehead and continued to giggle.

Daryl was on his back, his eyes closed and his hands in his hair as he tried to catch his breath. "The hell is so funny?" he asked.

She rolled onto her side and stared at him through the dark. "I don't know…" she chuckled, "Everything I guess."

He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. "Shit…"

She bit her lip, remembering the way it felt when her orgasm struck. "Shit is right…" she sighed happily.

Daryl could hear the notes of satisfaction in her voice. He sat up, glancing over at her. "Ya liked that?" he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

Carol chuckled, nodding.

The hunter smirked. "Good. I didn't hurt ya did I?"'

"You did not." she assured him

They smiled at one another before flopping onto their backs and staring at the ceiling. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Carol sighed. "God…I can't remember the last time I felt this good."

Daryl still had the smirk on his mouth. "Guess I did alright."

She laughed, running a hand over her face. "I'm not going to spend the whole night telling you how great you are….if that's what you're thinking…"

"Why not?" he asked, his hair a tangled, sweaty mess. Dark locks hung in his eyes as he stared at her.

She blinked, incredulous, before dissolving into another fit of laughter. When she finally managed to get herself under control she blew out a warm breath and draped one arm across her forehead. "Did that really just happen?" she asked, almost as if she were speaking to herself.

Daryl snorted. "I think so. Jesus." His cock was sore and his legs were weak.

Carol sighed again, savoring the lingering effects of her climax. Before she could stop herself, she was muttering into the dark. "God, that was so good…." her eyes were closed as she relived every delicious moment in her head.

The hunter was intrigued. With a grunt, he moved so that part of his body was hovering over her. He stared down into her face, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, her breath caught, but she quickly smiled at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He dipped his head and nipped at her collar bone before meeting her gaze again. "Guess I just don't get tired of hearin' it." he smirked.

Carol felt color forming in her cheeks. "Hearing what?" she asked playfully.

"That it was good." he answered.

"Well it was." she smirked back at him, reaching for his hair and twirling a piece around her finger.

He ran a calloused hand over her breasts and then down, past her belly, until her reached her clit. When his finger brushed the sensitive nub, her hips bucked and she gasped. "How long ya been hidin' all this?" he asked, meaning her body.

She giggled, feeling light-headed. "Why didn't you ever tell me that you were so good in bed?"

They both chuckled. Carol rolled onto her side again and stared at him. "How'd we get here?" she asked.

Daryl sighed. "Booze." He met her gaze and smirked at her. "Booze…'n you runnin' around in that damn underwear."

She laughed. "The alcohol was definitely a key factor… I won't argue that. But you're the one who came up here and started chasing me."

"Well, I wanted ya." he said. The answer was honest, automatic, and it seemed to surprise them both.

Carol propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him, her brows knitting together. "What?"

He blushed, looking away.

"Daryl?" she said.

He turned away from her, lying on his side. The pink cloth was tangled around his legs and he was trying to free himself from it. She sighed and forced herself so sit up. She crawled to him and started helping him with the cloth. When their eyes met, she held his gaze. "Will you stop?" she asked. "Let me help you."

He swallowed hard and let her fix the sheet. She managed to untangle the fabric and then drape it over him, like a blanket. "I ain't sleepin' here…" he said.

But Carol just smiled at him. "You're not gonna make it down the stairs, and I can't carry you." With that, she eased under the blanket and laid down beside him. After several seconds of silence she hesitantly inched closer to him and slid her arm around his middle. He tensed but didn't stop her. Drawing on her courage she pulled him until their bodies were flush, her bare chest pressed to his back. As they lay there, trying to remain calm, Carol inhaled the familiar scent from his hair. "I want you too." she whispered, her hand moving softly along his side, down to his hip and then back up to his ribcage.

He rolled over to face her and their eyes locked. They stared at one another for the longest time, each of them trying to puzzle out what they meant to the other. "Daryl…" she said. "I know it's been hard lately…everything that's happened. I just…I want you to know that you're not alone. I'm here. I'll always be here." she said, offering a weak smile.

He brushed the hair back from his forehead and focused on her. "Sometimes…I think you're gonna take off. I'm just gonna wake up…'n you'll be gone. I know ya been thinkin' about it." he growled softly.

Carol couldn't lie to him. "I've thought about it…" she admitted. "But I can never go through with it. Anytime I try…" she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I just feel like I'm needed here."

Daryl considered her words. "Ya are." his expression was somber.

As Carol stared at the man she cared so deeply for, she began to wonder when the alcohol would wear off…or if it hadn't begun to wear off already… Needing to feel close to one another, they leaned in until their lips met. These kisses didn't hold any animalistic urgency…they were kind, and soft…hopeful, as the two broken people worked to convince each other that they mattered. They kissed, and Daryl ran his fingers through her mussed hair until he was gently gripping the back of her neck. When they broke apart, they were still so close…staring at one another. Daryl couldn't believe that he was lying on the floor, under a pink sheet, surrounded by women's panties…with Carol. And she seemed equally surprised, but neither of them were in a hurry to leave. They laid together, talking, listening to one another. The more they spoke, the more they realized how much they'd missed it. It might've taken some liquid courage to get their walls down, but once Carol and Daryl opened up, they experienced genuine relief that comes from empathy…human understanding. Carol had been right…things weren't fine. They might never be fine again, but as long as she had Daryl, and he had her, she believed that they could cope.

I know that this was one was on the long side too, so sorry! I always try to set things up so that they're as believable as possible, and sometimes that takes a little time : ) Hopefully you guys had some laughs, some cold shower moments and some feels! Really hope you liked it Lisab876! Gotta be honest…I'm never gonna be able to go into Victoria's Secret again, without thinking of this lol. I'm working on requests and actually have more than I can handle at the moment. So sorry, but I can't take anymore right now : ( I'll let you guys know as soon as I can take more, so save those juicy ideas please! If you like this, please tell me why in the reviews!

-Sami