The plan to eliminate the Lupus Dei moves forward, Daryl finds out what shower fun time is all about and suspicion for who is responsible the deaths of the Wolves falls on someone who divides the sympathies of everyone in the Zone.

Sweet smut warning!

Keep on Tryin'

I've been thinkin' 'bout
All the times you told me
You're so full of doubt
You just can't let it be, but I know
If you keep comin' back for more
Then I'll keep on tryin'
I'll keep on tryin'

And I feel so satisfied when I can see you smile,
I want to confide in all that is true
So I keep on tryin'
I'm through with lyin'
Just like the sun above, I come shining through
Oh yes, I keep on tryin'
I'm tired of cryin'
I got to find a way to get on home to you
- sung by Poco, Writer: Timothy B. Schmit

"Hello." Enid said, her solemn face blank, eyes dark and fathomless.

"Girl." Davidson said, looking her up and down with a lazy smile from his position reclining on his cot. He saw that she was young, fresh, but the hardness in her eyes said she was a fighter. He liked that; liked when they fought back. His mate and the rest of the pack would be back to rescue him soon and then he could have this little morsel any way he wanted her.

"Get on with it." Abraham said, interrupting their stare-down from his position at the door, the Uzi he held pointed at the Lupus Dei's head.

Davidson raised his cuffed hands in surrender.

"I've brought your supper." the girl said, setting it down on the small table in the corner.

"More tuna noodle surprise? Delicious, I'm sure, but I'll pass." the Lupus Dei said dismissively.

"Actually it's roast chicken and vegetables with apple pie for dessert." Enid said, lifting the lid off of the tray she'd carried in.

"Final meal for the condemned?" the captive man asked, standing so he could come close enough to take a deep sniff of the food and smile appreciatively. He hadn't been officially notified that the Bitch Queen of the Zone had decided his fate, but he was pretty certain what it would be. He took solace in the knowledge that even if his pack wasn't in time to rescue him, they would keep on trying until they burned her little kingdom to the ground, just like they'd burned his men.

The girl was silent.

Abe cleared his throat, loudly.

"Well then, I suppose I should enjoy it." Davidson said, shuffling over to the table, his leg chain shackles clinking, sitting down at the table and pulling up the napkin, laying it carefully across his lap.

And he did, until he awoke four hours later, vomiting blood.

"You sure this is okay?" Daryl asked, trying to suppress a yawn, supporting his weight by leaning his hands on the tile wall in front of him, his head hanging down between his arms.

"I think so. It's been almost a week." Carol said, reaching past him to turn the hot water faucet up a bit higher. She glanced down at the stitches on his injured calf.

"No—I mean usin' their soap n' shampoo n' shit." Daryl said.

"It's the guest bathroom, we're guests." Carol said mater of factly. "Put your head under." She ordered and then squirted some rosemary scented shampoo into her hand.

"Ain't no invalid—can wash myself." Daryl grumbled. He'd thought showering together would somehow be sexier than this. So far he was finding it hard to even keep his eyes open.

It was after midnight and they were in the large walk in shower in the guest room at Claire and Felicia's house. They hadn't had a session with the psychologist per se, but had spent the last few hours getting to know each other, laying a foundation of friendship between the two couples. Carol had agreed that therapy was something that could be helpful, and they planned to meet again, more formally, later in the week.

When Daryl had fallen asleep on the couch next to her, their hosts had suggested they stay the night. Everyone knew they'd be at Aaron and Eric's on a Tuesday and sometimes ended up crashing there if it got late, so if anyone needed them they could track them down.

"Close your eyes. Just relax." Carol soothed, knowing when he was this tired he was always a bit grumpy. She ran her fingers through his hair making sure all the strands were wet through and then massaged the shampoo into them, pushing down to his scalp.

Daryl made a sound half way between a grunt and a groan as her fingers moved in circles at the crown of his head and down to the base of his skull. Trying to reach his brow she moved closer and he felt her soft water slick breasts press against his shoulder and sucked in a breath.

"Lower your head a little?" Carol asked him quietly and he complied, letting her continue his shampoo.

Daryl sighed as she gently cleared the tangles and massaged away his remaining tension as she rinsed out the shampoo.

"How's that?" Carol wondered, combing her fingers lightly through his locks, checking one last time for any knots.

"Feels good." Daryl admitted, a bit embarrassed, he wasn't used to being pampered like this.

Carol soaped up her hands and ran them down his neck and over his shoulders, continuing the assured massaging touch of her strong fingers down onto his back, sliding over scar and unblemished skin alike.

When she reached the base of his spine she dipped her thumbs into the dimples there, pressing in, right above the curve of his ass while the tips of her breasts grazed the middle of his back.

"Damn good." Daryl sighed again and then reached back to capture her hands and draw them around his hips, pulling her up tight against him, her belly pressed to his ass, breasts full flush to his back. He leaned forward against the wall, bracing himself on it with his open hands.

Carol rested her forehead between his shoulder blades and let her hands drift lower, following the ridged V of muscle down, bringing the lather she'd spread over his back with her.

"Is this okay?" Carol suddenly asked, stopping before her hands reached their destination. Washing his hair was one thing, getting sexual, especially in a position that made him feel vulnerable, was another.

"Yeah." Daryl replied softly, trembling a little. This was Carol. She loved him. She'd never hurt him.

"You sure?" Carol asked; she didn't want him to feel that he ever had to do anything just because she wanted it.

"Mmm hmmn." Daryl murmured and then felt her lips curl into a smile against his spine before she pressed a kiss reached over and squirted more of the gel soap onto her hands. Before she even touched him he felt himself thicken and rise in anticipation of it. Carol treated him with such tenderness it made his chest tighten, running one finger down the length of him while she fondled and then cupped the rounded sac below with her left hand.

Making that grunt/groan noise again, Daryl leaned more of his weight on his good leg for stability. She pressed more tightly against his back, lending her support as well to keep him upright while she started her stroke.

Daryl loved her hands. The calluses they wore were the kind that came from hard work, and they felt a bit wrong over such delicate bones. Nimble enough with needle and thread to sew up a seam or a wound, strong enough to drive her knife into the brain of a walker and fire a rifle with deadly accuracy, they were also gentle enough to tend a sick child or caress her lover.

"Do you know what a beautiful man you are?" Carol asked, covering the rounded tip and flared head of his cock with her hand, feeling the softness of his skin contrast with the pulsing tautness of what it covered as she held it in her palm. She squeezed and released in a steady light rhythm with both hands.

"Please..." Daryl whimpered, his hips rocking, barely moving, to the same rhythm. She was teasing him, making him wait for it.

"I can feel this—this ridge—here." she said, her hand sliding down over the glans to the veined shaft and stroking back up. "How it locks you in there...inside..." she stroked down again, this time all the way to the base and back up. "All of you, so thick and hard, inside..."

She took up a long tight stroke then, base to tip, relentless. Nipping at his shoulders, her strong thighs bucked against his, and he felt the wiry softness of her mound press into the cleft of his rounded ass, the hardened tips of her breasts digging into his back.

Daryl was panting, moaning, struggling not to just whip around, lift her against the wall and bury himself inside...

Sensing he was close Carol slowed, then stopped, skimming kisses up his back, over each scar while she held him. His cock jumped in her hands, throbbing with need. His back arched, rocking back against her in a silent plea for her to finish, to let him come.

"Don't stop..." Daryl pleaded and she had to laugh giddily at hearing the opposite of what he had said for so long to her gentle flirting. She let go of him and before he could protest, turned him bodily, pushed him back against the wall and knelt, taking him in her mouth.

"Oh holy fuck." Daryl gasped, his palms slapping back against the wall. This wasn't something he'd ever expected her to do.

Carl grasped his hip with her left hand to steady herself and used the right to make up for the length of him she couldn't fully hold inside, swirling her tongue around the ridge below the curve of the tapered head. She resumed her stroke in concert with steady bob of her head, taking as much of him as she could manage, licking and sucking down tightly.

Daryl was overwhelmed by the sensation of pure pleasure she was creating, his pants and moans becoming more guttural. He was trembling, abs tensed; his breath caught as he tried not to let his hips thrust forward the way he wanted to, afraid of hurting her.

Carol's left hand slipped back and her fingernails raked lightly against his ass and he hissed, his balls tightening, moving to the point of no return. He tried to warn her, choking out her name almost the same second as he erupted. She hummed, continuing to suckle and stroke, swallowing and licking until he had nothing left.

Daryl was done, spent, panting; his head leaned back against the tiles, unsure of how he was managing to still be standing up.

Carol released him, but leaned in and ran her hands soothingly over his abdomen as if willing his breathing to calm, pressing a warm kisses and nuzzles to his belly button.

"You all right?" Carol asked him, looking up. His eyes were tightly closed, his wet hair hanging in his face. He was still breathing through his mouth and she wasn't quite sure if the look he wore was pain or bliss.

Reaching down, Daryl grasped Carol's shoulders, drawing her up until she was standing in front of him. He opened his eyes and shook his head at her in wonder and then leaned down to kiss her thoroughly, showing her he'd been awed by what she'd done.

"Always...right...with you," Daryl stammered, resting his forehead on hers but swaying a bit with light-headedness, trying to explain what he was feeling, "but that was...I never thought you'd... because he..."

"I wanted to try. Not let him win. You know?" Carol said. Being forced to do something was very different than wanting to do it for someone you loved.

"Yeah, I know." Daryl kissed her forehead and held her close, his breathing calming after a minute or two. "Carol?"

"Hmmn?" Carol responded, reaching up and slicking his hair back off of his face so she could look into his stormy blue eyes.

"Still new to this sharin' a shower thing..." he said and then asked, with a hint of impishness, lifting up the bottle of shower gel. "D'I get to wash you now?"

Ground glass, no matter how fine, will destroy the lining of the esophagus and stomach, shredding it in the digestive process until the one who has consumed it bleeds to death from the inside.

There was nothing Yang could do to save Davidson. She was called to his room when Abraham, doing his hourly check, found him unconscious on the floor next to his bed, bleeding from the mouth and nose. Believing him to have been poisoned, the doctor tried to work out what the agent had been, searching for an antidote, but to no effect. He lingered, in agony, until almost dawn and then died.

Her autopsy of the stomach contents showed the fine but deadly crystal shards amongst the remains of his dinner. When she gave her findings to Rick, Michonne and Deanna, they started pulling in people for questioning.

Olivia was first. She admitted that she had fixed the captive's plate. The dinner had been sent along with the rest of the deliveries for shut-ins.

"What was on the menu?" Rick asked.

"Well, we had to cull the young roosters yesterday—make a hell of a racket and you only need one in a flock for fertilized eggs—so there was chicken. Started harvesting the root vegetables, so potatoes and carrots, some brussel sprouts too. Roasted them all up real nice with some tarragon. Apple sauce for dessert..." Olivia said, rambling a bit too much considering the impatience of her audience.

"Apple pie." Yang prompted.

"What? Pie? No, we were using the big community ovens for roasting, not baking yesterday." Olivia said with assurance. "And day before was bread day. No pies."

"There was apple pie—Dutch apple pie to be exact—in the stomach contents." Yang insisted.

"So that's how the glass was introduced—a little grittiness in the top crust wouldn't have drawn too much attention if the filling was rich enough." Michonne said, exchanging a loaded look with Rick. They both knew someone who excelled at making desserts.

"Carol?"

She heard her name being called softly along with a light rapping knock on the bedroom door. Carol opened her eyes and sighed, knowing their little vacation from reality was over. All of the decisions that they'd avoided by staying here last night, where they were going to live being chief among them, came crashing back.

"Carol?" the call and knock came again, a bit more insistent.

Carol looked at the windows, the light pink light showing it was still quite early, just after dawn. She looked over at Daryl, who lay on his side watching her, a peaceful smile curving his cheek.

"I'll get it." She said, kissed him quickly and then slid out of bed quietly, stretching out the soreness in her back. She pulled on Daryl's shirt to go open the door, buttoning it as she went.

"Good morning, Claire—we'll be up and out of your way in a little bit—thanks again for letting us stay last night, we really—." Carol began warmly, but the other woman's troubled look made her stop.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Daryl said from the bed behind her.

"Rick and Michonne are downstairs." Claire said quietly. "The Lupus Dei is dead...and they want to talk to Carol."

Hope you didn't mind the little smutty interlude there. I needed to write something to cheer me up after the Game of Thrones finale last night., They are reaching TWD levels of torturing, endangering, exiling & killing off of characters I like...

Daryl is not going to be happy (to put it mildly) that Rick is pursuing Carol for the killings. Will the real perpetrators let her take the blame?