Well, this is it. I was initially going to wait until after Sunday's episode to write this, just to see if I could use anything from the show, but then this hit me and I couldn't wait. Also, if I let myself procrastinate, it would've taken me weeks to update. Anyway, I'm not sure how long this will get, but we shall see.

I would like to humbly apologize for not addressing any of your kind and frankly brilliant ideas, but I had every chapter written before I posted. Maybe I can do a bonus, or even just another one-shot.

Thanks for reading, and I hope this is the conclusion you've been waiting for.

+1

Carol is a nurturer. She loves all things, and doesn't believe that one person can be truly heartless, even Ed. Ed was possibly the largest regret of her life, but he gave her Sophia, so was it really all that bad? Or perhaps her regret was staying with Ed, and choosing to live the life of a victim. Or not. She learned so much from that experience, and while others may think otherwise, it made her strong enough to live in this wrecked world. But the thing she regrets most is leaving her job as a teacher. True, it was Ed who asked her to leave, but she agreed.

She was that teacher who you looked back on fondly as you remembered kindergarten. Never raising her voice, bringing snacks on Fridays, even putting a piano into her room, she was the most beloved staff member in her small elementary school. Carol treasured children, taking genuine interest and time to get to know each one. True they were small, but that was when the seeds were planted for a strong sense of self-identity, something Carol pushed heavily for, yet the exact thing she shamefully lost after her marriage.

Even if she couldn't teach children, she was born to raise Sophia. She did everything she could to assure Sophia would be out of harm's way. While that was easier said than done, Carol loved no one more than her daughter, and hated no one more than herself. She didn't do enough to get away from Ed. Hell, she couldn't if she tried! He was constantly threatening her, saying he would send his army buddies after her to drag her back.

As long as she took the brute of her husband, she could keep her child safe.

And then the plague, and then the raid and he was gone. Well, there couldn't be a more condensed summary, but who cares? Carol was free! It seems now more than ever that freedom is in short supply. Naturally, knowing her luck, this positive turn of luck couldn't last.

Sophia ran, and way down, way, way down, Carol knew she was never getting her back.

But Daryl. Daryl was out every single day, from dawn to dusk searching for her, risking his life for a lost cause. Pessimistic and nihilistic, perhaps, but now was not the time for delusions. She didn't buy any of the far-fetched excuses he gave, but she still appreciated the gesture nonetheless. For someone so accepting and talented at seeing the good in everyone, she was astonished at how she had categorized him in with his brother. They may have been related, but knowing Ed's brother, he seemed perfectly decent. But so was Ed.

She shook the thought. It was done! In the past! Move on!

She cursed herself constantly for being the burdensome damsel in distress. No one said it, but she knew people thought it. The group was really good at silently judging and not even realizing it, but Carol could see it on their faces.

This time, Daryl was once again the outlier. When she saw him looking at her, she saw pity in his eyes. It didn't take long for her to put everything together, and her suspicions were confirmed after she saw his scarred back while he was recovering. She knew he knew that she knew.

After that, they seemed to get along better, finding themselves drawn towards each other in this unspoken way.

I survived, you survived, we can do this and we don't need to do it alone.

This carried through the winter and it grew as they learned to work together. More times than not, they found each other backing the other up. Rick taught her the ways of heavy artillery after Daryl found his crossbow too heavy for her.

He would never admit it, but seeing her wreck walkers with her modded M16 was incredibly attractive. He felt like something was building within him that made him constantly want to earn her approval, but that was always just a nagging feeling, but that day on the watch tower, feeling the heat from her gun, he knew it was more than that.

But he would never say anything.

It was sometime during the winter when it happened for her. She didn't know where the group was, since how can you be lost when you aren't going anywhere, but it didn't matter. The Georgian natives were used to a mild winter, so when the temperature dropped to freezing, it was a surprise and the group found themselves ill prepared. Sure they had sleeping bags, but they only help so much when paired with clothes that generate the fiction that generates heat.

They were in a barn, with a small fire in the center of the circle of sleeping hunters. Daryl took the first watch, as he often did, while everyone dozed off. With the temperature drop, normally thick skinned Daryl found himself shivering and nodding off faster than usual. Not bothering to fight it, he woke T-Dog and took his leave around the fire. Curled in his sleeping bag, he was still chilled. Looking around, he saw the group pressed together in various pairs so he thought nothing (maybe little) of hopping over to press his back to Carol's. Carol, too cold to sleep peacefully, felt his warmth and smiled to herself. She slowly began sharing heat and she nodded off.

In the middle of the night, she felt something jab at her back that pulled her from her dreamless sleep. As she slowly sat up, she saw that Daryl had turned to his other side, causing his arm to land carelessly on Carol's . Now it had fallen to the ground, and this woke Daryl. Realizing what had happened, he jerked away and moved farther from her. They had a moment of eye contact, and Carol offered a small, kind smile, empathetic of the innocent gesture, but he just turned away, with no harsh words or glances. This lack of response, and glimpse into the small boy who lie next to her was enough. She knew it was more than simply friendship.

But she would never say anything.

Well, she would. She's a natural joker and sarcasm flowed as smoothly as water, so her suggestions aimed toward him were all in good fun, but held more of a double meaning than she thought he would ever know. She didn't feel bad about that.

Even as time passed, and she became more bold and front, he remained clueless. She entertained the idea that he knew, but was to kind to give her a response, no matter positive or negative, but then laughed as she shooed it away, because this was Daryl Dixon and the crass man was never one to step away.

Except for once. Just once.

After the raid in the prison, when the group got separated and she was left behind, Carol found herself with only her small knife that more often than not cut into roots and squirrels than walkers. She fought as best as she could, knowing that even if she didn't make it, there would be that many fewer zombies the group would have to take care of later. Maybe she would even get to see Sophia.

So she fought, and fought and fought, ripping into eyes and skulls and just whatever she could get her hands on. It proved to be in vain, since she tired faster than the walkers. In a last, stupid and worst case scenario, she surrendered her knife into the neck of a fat inmate and took her chance by hiding in a utility closet, unaware of if the danger had passed. She fell unconscious.

She awoke in the dark and heard nothing. She was hungry, thirsty and smelled of gore, making her slightly nauseous. Too uncertain of just how much time had passed, she took not a chance at making a run, certainly since she was unarmed. Time lost meaning, and frankly she didn't know if she fell asleep or fainted from the lack of air she was getting from her filthy clothes.

She awoke next when she heard voices. This time, she was even hungrier, thirstier and weaker than before, and couldn't do much but slightly nudge at the thick metal door. Just a tiny crack of light shown through, but that was it. Thankfully this closet she jumped into was walker free.

The voices sounded familiar, but if she was delusional or dreaming she couldn't be positive. She kept nudging the door slowly. One of the voices opened up the exit slightly, took a glimpse for walkers, but never looked down to see her crouching.

Maybe it was only a dream. It was surely Rick and Daryl out on patrol, and they were never careless. They would never leave a walker just lingering. All are threats and all must be eliminated.

She slipped back asleep, this time longer than the others. She awoke and heard nothing, but her ears were beginning to ring. With her parched throat, she couldn't tell if she was hungry or if she were past that point. As long as she couldn't feel her empty stomach, she was okay with that.

Knowing it takes less than three days for dehydration to kill, she somberly went unconscious again, accepting her fate. Maybe she died a long time ago, and to move on was to accept it. With hope gone in being rescued, she closed her eyes, but smiled at the thought of being with her daughter. Soon.

Not soon enough. She awoke once more to the shrill piercing of metal on stone. It was too short and hard to be sharpening a blade, but it was still real. She knew it was real for sure this time, that she was not actually dead, because sooner than later she found herself willing away the obnoxious sound. If she were dead, why would this unnecessary part of the transition be there?

In a futile effort to stop it, she began nudging the door open again. It took everything and then some, her foot failing to even stay propped up. She found herself out of breath and in pain when she forced air down her desert dry throat.

Then it was over.

The light was blinding as the door opened. She couldn't make out the figure standing above her, but she could see a raised arm, as if to attack. As her eyes adjusted, the mind of the man did as well. He lowered his knife and kneeled down.

It was Daryl. Daryl had come for her.

She gave the meekest smile she had, frankly the only one she could muster. He squatted down , knife wielding hand on one knee, the other cupping her chin. Yes, he was certainly real. She was going to survive.

She had a real knack for it.

"Carol? Oh Carol, you're alive? Are ya bit?" Daryl barely whispered, voice heavy with emotion.

She put her head back and gave the smallest sarcastic laugh she could. Daryl couldn't speak, and frankly she couldn't either.

Forgetting every ail and pain in her body, she slowly lifted herself up to a pathetic kneeling position. She faced her savior and literally swooned. She had not moved this much in hours, days, who knows. She haphazardly fell into the man, but not limply raising her arms to wrap around his waist. She buried her head into his shoulder, sobbing lightly yet no tears were falling.

It was unanticipated for him, this frail motion, but it only felt natural to tighten his grip around her waist to pull her into him, as forcefully as he could without hurting the malnourished woman. His other arm dropped the knife, her knife, and snaked up to the nape of her neck, pressing her into his arm.

He would not lose her again.

With moment of bitterness, he realized that this was the door he had walked past days ago. She could've been safe and sound, helping with Herschel and the baby, but she was in here, all because he hadn't come back to cover her, and because he didn't want to take to seconds to take out the 'walker' in the closet.

In that moment, that moment of hatred towards himself, he pressed her into him even harder, and with more intention than he had ever given forth to anyone else. He didn't think twice about adding the extra force, if she could survive this long, in this forgotten closet, she could handle his compassion, dammit!

With vigor, he scooped her up into a bridal hold in a most fluid motion and she allowed the adjustment, knowing she couldn't make it back to the cell block by herself.

In the softest, most sympathetic voice he had ever mustered, he murmured down into her big brown eyes that were staring up to him with gratitude and hope.

"Le's get ya back to the block." She closed her eyes and rested into his chest, as he made his silent but confident steps towards asylum.

They never said it, nor did they have to, but this was it for both of them, and they knew.

XXX

I am really pleased with how this turned out, and I would love it if you would let me know as well!

If you need a fluffy Caryl pick-me-up, I suggest checking out my story 'Handy', and it can be found on my profile. Daryl gets in a practice accident and Carol has to sew up his leg.

Thank you all again for sticking around. This was great fun to write, and I am considering delving into another X times blank story. If you see it posted, I hope you might check it out~