Author's Note: I want to be best friends with everyone of you. Apologies for the delay in this chapter, life blah blah blah. I'm away again this weekend so I will update sometime Monday. Thank you.

TWDTWDTWD

It took four days for them to move on, mostly at Carol's insistence. It took four days for the bruising of her muscles to recede somewhat, allowing her to walk almost normally. Her lip was back to normal size, the cut healing nicely, so she could eat and drink as usual. Kiss as normal. Not that Daryl came close to kissing her again.

She'd tried to kiss him. Well, she succeeded. On the second night, he climbed into the bed with her and she pressed herself as close to him as she could and he didn't object. His face was so close to her own that it was easy to press her lips to his. It took him a moment to respond, he was always so uncertain around her, before he opened his mouth to accept her tongue, pressing his hands to her face. Even though she had instigated it, he took the lead, pressing her back against the mattress as she tugged on the hem of his shirt, trying to have as much of him touching her as possible. One of his hands slipped under her shirt, gripping on her hip as she arched beneath him, pressing herself into him.

She felt him go hard against her leg and he pushed her thighs apart with his knee, his thigh brushing her crotch and she moaned into his mouth, wordlessly urging him on. He pressed harder against her mouth, silencing her and slid his hands up across her bruised middle. She tried to hide her flinch, to stop the groan that was not in ecstasy from slipping from her lips but he caught it and swiftly pulled away from her as if she had burnt him.

"No, it's okay." She whispered to him, hands scrabbling to pull him back over her but he refused, prising her fingers from his shirt front. "It's fine."

"No." He grunted at her, rolling back onto the bed. "'s not okay. I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't." Carol propped herself up as best as she could, trying not to show him how much she hurt. She reached out for him but he jerked away, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. Carol pulled back her hand, feelings hurt. "Daryl."

He just looked at her, shaking his head.

She let out a sigh of frustration and tugged down her flannel shirt. She wanted to roll over and turn her back on him, to physically voice her displeasure, but it hurt her too much so she had to make do with pulling the blankets up to her neck and turning her head away.

When she woke up the next morning, he was back by her side, feet bumping hers, a hand resting on her thigh. She relished the contact for a little while. It had been so long since there had been physical affection from a man in her life. The spell was broken when he woke up a little after she did, pulling himself away from her the minute his eyes fluttered open. He was careful to keep all touching to a minimum then. Doing whatever he needed to help her wash or dress, but no more. But he was always there, hovering in the peripherals of her vision.

He was the main reason she wanted to move on. They needed purpose, a distraction. Daryl never said a word to her about his desire to move further north into Alabama, she knew he would never dream of rushing her recovery but she could feel it. He helped Rick and Hershel plan out the route everyday, went hunting every morning and rooted around the local town at every opportunity.

Daryl worried that members of Merle's group, or even Merle himself, would find them. They weren't far over the Alabama-Georgia border and there weren't many people living. He just itched to get as far north as possible. He wanted to keep them safe. He wanted to keep Carol safe. It made him feel sick that he hurt her.

Getting caught up in the heat of the moment could've made her a hell of a lot worse and she wouldn't have even told him. Her face gave the game away. She would've let him to do it and that made him feel awful. Sure, he wanted her. He really wanted her. This thing, whatever it was that was between them, it had been brewing a long time. He didn't know how to pursue it and neither did she. They had seemed to dance around each other, never talking about it. Not that he ever would anyway. Talking about shit was useless. Doing was better. And he would do something to show her, when she was well again.

He wouldn't even let himself touch her, if he could help it. It wasn't like he wasn't going to help her when she needed it, like putting on her shoes or tending to her wounds, but he wouldn't let himself kiss her or put his hands on her in any kind of intimate way because he wanted more. He wanted to fuck her. She would let out these little breathy moans when he even pressed against her and he couldn't trust himself to hold back.

So when she proclaimed herself well enough to get back on the road, he didn't protest. At least if they were on the road, he wouldn't be sitting around, watching her watch him. He wouldn't be thinking about all the things he wanted to do with her. And then maybe she'd quit pouting. He'd never seen Carol behave so petulantly before. Like a child that couldn't have their way, she folded her arms and turned her back to him. To the others, she treated him no differently but when they were on her own, she tried to ignore him. She knew why he didn't want to touch her.

It wasn't til they rode out a few days after they arrived, that he realised what leaving would mean. It would mean endless hours alone in the cab of the truck, with nothing or no-one to distract them, they would only have each other for company. She didn't even give him breathing space, even in that ever-shrinking cab. She sat in the middle, leaving space between her and the door and he wanted to shove her over, but considered it counterproductive to both his plan of not touching her unless necessary and of not hurting her.

He almost considered breaking his resolve when they stopped on a blocked road and she put her hand on his thigh to brace herself as she peered over him to look out the window. Almost.

The first two days, they managed to find somewhere to bed down for the night, but by the time they got into Mississippi, they were were out on the open highway, where the roads were clear, no Walkers seemingly about, but it was just as dangerous to stop there, with no cover or opportunities to gather supplies. Noone wanted to stop here for anything more than refuelling, so it fell upon Carol to take up some of the driving. Not that Daryl wanted her to, of course. He had suggested to her before they even pulled over to swap with T-Dog, but she turned to him with a withering look, pouring water on that idea.

"I'm not crippled. It's not going to hurt me to sit behind the wheel." Her voice was full of scorn.

"It ain't that, if -" He tried to protest but she cut him dead as he pulled the truck over behind Rick's car.

"If I see something, I will wake you up. Now move over." She pushed him none too gently into the door and he could do nothing but gape at her. Carol never spoke back to anyone. Never ignored instructions or took charge. But there was no other word for it, Carol had become increasingly cheeky since the incident with Andrew. Definitely not on par with anything Lori or Maggie could offer, but for her, it was positively rude. He kind of liked it.

It took a little while for her to get into the swing of driving the truck and he tried not to wince when she crunched the gears, but eventually he managed to drift off. When he woke up, it was dark and it alarmed him momentarily. Carol was relaxed on the bench, one arm on the wheel, the other resting on the door, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The moon was out and he could see she was tired.

"What time is it?" He asked groggily, stretching his back and rubbing his eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the dash to look for the clock. "A little after midnight."

"You shoulda woke me up." He told her, shaking off the ache in his limbs from sitting up against the door.

"I'm fine." She told him, but he could see her jaw clench to stifle a yawn.

"Come on, switch wit' me." He shuffled closer to her and she was startled when she realised he wanted to switch places without stopping the car.

"There's only forty five minutes till we pull over to refuel anyway."

He just tapped her elbow, wedging a leg under hers. She was forced to lift her hips and he put his hands to her waist to pull her up higher, sliding himself underneath her so that she straddled his leg. It made her chuckle inwardly when she realised after all his attempts to avoid contact, he'd just undone his efforts in the space of a few seconds. He pushed her foot from the gas pedal and she reluctantly slid from his lap, letting him take over the steering wheel.

"Get some rest." He ordered her, eyes flickering between the road and her. She let out a sigh and pulled the folded blanket from the space behind them, wrapping it around herself. She settled herself against the door but by the time she felt like she could just about drift off, the truck slowed to a stop and her eyes snapped open when she felt the rush of cold from Daryl opening his door. She'd considered hopping out to stretch herself, her muscles still had a tendency to cramp up if she sat in the same position for too long, but the cold was off putting so she settled for stretching herself across the bench, head at the driver's side, bare feet pressed up against the glass of the passenger window.

She didn't think she'd fallen asleep, but she had, if only for a few minutes and she jerked awake when Daryl pulled the door open again. She made to get up but he stopped her as she lifted her head, wordlessly allowing her to rest her head on his thigh. She let out a small sigh, finding her comfortable position on the bench and closed her eyes as the engine roared to life.

He didn't really intend on letting her rest against his leg. It's just she'd looked peaceful sleeping on the bench and he knew damn well how uncomfortable it was to sleep against the door and he could only imagine how difficult it would be when she had bruising like she did. When she let out that little sigh of contentment, he had to grip the steering wheel tighter to stop himself reaching out for her. He didn't need to put both hands on the wheel, they were cruising along at 50 mph, with very little turns or bends in the road ahead, but it kept his right hand away from her, when it wanted to rest right on her skin.

He tried to force his mind to other things, the possibilities that lay ahead of them, even tried focusing on what he fancied for his next meal but it was useless. Every so often she let out a little breathy moan and he glanced down at his lap to watch her. She let out a faint little gasp and her eyes snapped open.

"You a'right?" He grunted at her.

She nodded. "Nightmare." She whispered.

He pulled his hand from the wheel and brushed her jaw. "S'ok." He told her. The motion was involuntary but she pressed her hand over his, thumb rubbing against his fingers.

"I know." She replied, moving the pads of his fingers to her pursed lips , kissing them gently. Daryl let out a sigh. Resigned, Carol thought. Like he had given in to her. She felt ridiculously pleased with herself.

"Ya gonna be the death of me ya know." He told her. She let out a soft laugh and pulled his arm down to rest over her chest. He froze at her action, arm stiffening but she was relentless, clasping her fingers over his and he relaxed as his fingertips grazed the bare skin just inside her shirt, the swell of her breast under his palm.

Carol was sick of the games they seemed to be playing. Dancing around each other, never getting anywhere. This was her clear cut signal that she wanted more from him. Needed more. She didn't want to wait any longer. As soon as they could, she would.

As if he could read her mind, his hand trailed further into her shirt, palm cupping her breast, her nipple peaking under his caress. "Soon." He murmured. Daryl was tired of fighting her on this. Fighting his own baser desires. Life was too short.

She drifted off pretty quickly and he let himself smirk at the fact. His hand stayed where she had put it, her own resting on top and he found himself desperately wishing that the empty, deserted highway in the state of Mississippi was their destination so he could do exactly what he really wanted to do. What he really wanted to do was push those over sized jeans from her hips and pull her into his lap. Still, he contented himself with his hand in her shirt, thumb tracing patterns over her hardened nipple. Soon.