Chapter Thirty-Four

Warning: This chapter is rated M/E for adult themes. SMUT people!

He poked at the dying embers of the fire and what little it served in the way of warmth as he sneered at his makeshift camp. He was so tired of running. He had never minding camping in the woods, rather enjoyed it in fact, but it was different when someone just so happened to be chasing you.

His gaze wandered up the length of the oak. Just his eyes as he remained still and motionless, not wanting to give her position away. Marty was already more than a little angry with him. She would have run forever if he'd asked, but that was no life for her. The woman he was beginning to care – truly care – for deserved better. His ears were attuned to the forest around him, could hear the telltale shuffle of footsteps, but they were the clumsy footfalls of the living instead of the dragging amble of the dead.

Merle dragged his good hand over his face and reclined against the moldy log at his back. Waiting … patiently waiting. The hunter with his prey within his sights. He couldn't rightly allow his pursuers to follow him all the way to Ft. Benning and put his family in danger. He rubbed his fingers together idly, itching to reach for the gun on his hip, to dispatch them before they even had chance to explain their motives. What did he care? He just wanted to be done with them.

For all outward appearances, he seemed to be calm, relaxed. He was anything but. The sounds drew closer, helping him pinpoint exactly where the Latino and his dark friend were just outside the meager circle of light provided by his campfire. "Might as well c'mon out, boys," he called, his voice muted in deference to the deaders which might be lurking in the shadows. "Y' not foolin' nobody."

The Latino was the first to step forth into the light, and Merle's grin widened. So, he must be the leader, Dixon thought. "Where's your woman?" he asked calmly, keeping his eyes trained on Merle.

Merle shrugged. "Oh, she's around." His hand never ventured to his side, wanting his prey to feel confident enough to let his guard down. "Have a seat. Seems like we need t' have a lil' chat."

The man snorted. "If you wanted to chat, Dixon, you wouldn't've made us chase you across three counties."

His grin fell away, and his eyes narrowed with dangerous intent. "How y' know me? What is it y' want? M' woman? Because I promise y' now, she ain't gonna take too kindly t' goin' with y'."

The Latino rolled his eyes. "Man, what the hell kind of people you take us for? It ain't like that."

Merle leaned forward, glaring over the campfire at him. "Then why don'tcha jus' enlighten me t' how it is? An' y' can start by tellin' me how y' know who I am when I ain't never set eyes on y' before." An arrow came whizzing out from the treetops to land near the Latino's buddy who was slowly creeping up behind Merle. Dixon chuckled. "Might wanna invite yer friend to join us before m' woman shoots a bolt up 'is ass."

The man jerked his chin in his companion's direction, and the big man ambled out of the darkness to crouch down beside him. "I'm Martinez." He nodded towards the other man. "That's Schumpert. We go out in teams … 'bout four I'd say … unless the Governor has recruited more men since we've been out."

"Th' governor? Don't tell me yer runnin' around caterin' t' that asshole!" Merle scoffed.

Martinez shook his head. "Naw, Dixon, be serious. This guy Blake, he's putting together this safe haven. You ought to know by now we can't trust the government … or what's left of it. There's a complete breakdown in authority out there. It's every man for himself."

"S'that right," Merle drawled.

"Blake's an alright guy. He's recruiting people to help bring order to this place … Woodbury. He needs muscle."

Merle grinned, knowing the type of man Martinez was trying to sell him on, but his eyes were cold and calculating. "Still don't explain how y' know me."

A slow grin spread over Martinez's face. "You did a stint at state with my brother Nero. Saw you a time or two when I went to visit him in the joint. So yeah, I know about you, Dixon. Know what kinda man you are."

The man he used t' be, he thought, a flash of blue eyes and a pixie smile flashing across his mind's eye. Merle forced himself to appear relaxed. Well as much as he could, considering he'd rather just gut the two bastards and be on his way. But there was something niggling at the back of his mind. This place could be good – stable – for Marty, for his family once he found them. Someplace safe. "And jus' what is it this governor would want me t' do? Work for him? If'n y' know me at all, y' know I don't work an' play well with others."

Martinez shrugged. "Pretty much what we're doing out here. Scavenging, mostly. Recruiting when we can. We're just trying to help people who can't take care of themselves. We bring them back to Woodbury where it's safe."

"Sounds too good t' be true, Merle," Marty called down from her perch in the oak. "Too much like a pipe dream, if y' ask me."

Schumpert paled as he swung around to stare up at the arrow she had nocked at his head. "The governor's a good man," he said calmly. "There are walls being constructed around the town to keep the dead out. It's probably the safest place you'll find."

She leveled her cold jade stare at him, but held her tongue.

Merle cocked his head to the side, sizing them up. Everything about the situation screamed for him to run, to find Daryl and his family and keep running, but on the other hand … if he could find a safe place where they could live without fear for their lives, he had to take a chance. "Hand over yer weapons. Y' take us t' this … Woodbury, was it? We'll judge fer ourselves if'n we wanna be a part of it."

Martinez grinned and handed over his side arm, but kept a firm grip on his knife. "You won't regret it, my friend."

Marty snorted.

Merle took the gun and tucked it into his waistband. "S'that right?" he drawled. "We'll jus' have t' see about that."

*.*.*

Daryl stifled a groan as his head swam with dizziness. He knew better than to make a sound before he could open his eyes and assess his surroundings. He was more than a little startled to see Carl and Sophia on the sofa across the room beneath the big bay window. Her head was nestled comfortably on the boy's lap, and they looked to be reading comic books. Th' fuck?! His girl looked entirely too comfortable sharing Carl's personal space. How th' fuck long had that been goin' on, he wondered irritably.

He opened his mouth to protest their closeness, but it felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. It was then he remembered the pills Carol had nearly forced down his throat at dawn. Now the sun was brightly shining in through the windows and he was hot as hell beneath the blankets. He tossed them off quickly, gaining the attention of the children.

"Oh, good you're up!" Sophia chirped happily. "Carl, go tell my mom Daryl's awake."

"Ok," he replied. He paused at the door. "You want to go see the horses when you're done?"

"Sure!" Daryl watched her eyes brighten, which put him in an even worse mood. She hopped up on the bed with him once the boy left, and arched a brow at his thunderous expression. "What?" she asked calmly.

He didn't hesitate. "Th' hell was that, girl? Layin' all up on 'is lap like that! What else y'all been doin' while m' back was turned, huh?"

"Seriously?" she asked in a droll tone. "You're not really asking if me and Carl have been messing around, are you?"

He waved an arm at the sofa and then clutched at his wounded side. "What th' hell am I s'posed t' think? I saw you!"

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Ok, first of all … I'm twelve. Secondly … eww! Boys are gross. Thirdly … Carl's my friend. He's been with me from the start of this thing, and I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him. I never really had friends before because of Ed." She sighed a bit dejectedly. "Just don't worry, ok? I'm not going to do anything you would disapprove of, Dad. I promise."

And with that one word his anger dissipated. Apparently, Carol had already talked to her. He slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. "It's not that I don't want y' t' have friends, Soph. Jus' … you're too young for that sorta thing, y'know. I don't want y' t' get yerself in trouble. An' somethin' tells me good ol' Rick wouldn't take kindly t' me snappin' 'is boy's neck for gettin' y' that way."

"Oh, my god," she groaned, her face going up in flames. "Are we really doing this? Mom told me about sex when I was ten because of this TV show Ed was watching. She almost stroked out. So, I really don't need the talk from you too, do I?"

His face was just as tomato red as hers, and he was all the more thankful for his woman's foresight. "Gawd, no!" He slung his legs over the side of the bed. "Jus' be careful."

Daryl doubled over in agony as he stood, one hand braced against the wall. Of course, Carol would choose that moment to come breezing into the room. "Daryl! What are you doing out of bed?!" she cried, setting a fine china plate on the bed and rushing to his side.

"Gotta take a piss, woman," he growled through his pain. "An' hell no, I ain't usin' a damn bedpan. So, don't even bother t' bring it up."

Sophia made her way to the door, leaving Daryl in her mother's more than capable hands. "Oh, he's going to be fun to be around today," she drawled. She reached up and kissed Carol's cheek. "I'm going to see the horses with Carl, Mama."

Carol looked panicked. "What? Why?"

"Mom, it's ok. It's just to the stables."

"But … I'm sorry. I just got you back, and –"

"You're worried, I know," Sophia sighed, resigning herself to being watched like a hawk. "I'm going straight there and then right back to the house. I promise to be careful, and stay where I can hear you if you call for me. I can't stay in the house all the time, though, Mama."

Carol bit her lip uncertainly. "I know, baby. Maybe I can convince Rick to set up a target near our camp, so you and Carl can practice with your bows."

"Awesome!"

"Alright," Carol smiled. "Go see the horses and I'll talk to him."

Sophia reached up and hugged her mother before darting out of the room. Daryl was holding his side and moving much slower than usual when he came back and flopped unceremoniously onto the bed with a groan. She handed him the plate with the sandwich she'd made for his lunch, and left him a moment to bring her request to Rick. When she returned, he was lying against the pillows, scowling up at the ceiling.

"What's wrong, Pookie?" she asked, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Not feeling well?"

He looked away, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest as he gnawed on his lower lip. When he refused to answer, she gave him his space, reaching into the bedside table for the medical supplies she'd need to care for his wound. "Don't patronize me, woman," he finally growled. "Y' ain't got no idea what I woke up t'."

Carol eased the soiled bandage away from his skin, trying to be gentle. "Why don't you tell me. It might make this a bit easier … take your mind off of it."

Daryl rolled onto his right side to give her more room to work, flinging his arm over his head. "Y' know what our girl was doin'? She was layin' on that sofa with 'er head in Carl's lap. His lap, Carol!"

He hissed as she cleaned the wound with alcohol. She arched a brow. "What was she doing with her head on his lap?" she asked calmly. There was really no need to panic, they weren't even teenagers yet. The hormones surely hadn't kicked in.

"Readin' comics."

"Maybe she was still tired from her ordeal," she suggested, applying antibiotic ointment to his wound. Thankfully there was no redness to be found, nor infection.

"I told 'er she shouldn't be doin' that shit," he grumbled.

"And what did she say?"

"That boys are gross an' I'm worryin' for nothin'. I wish Merle was here," he sighed. "I'd make 'im put th' fear o' Dixon in that boy."

Carol laughed as she finished with his bandage and sat back. "The fear of Dixon?"

"Stop," he mumbled, blushing. He could already feel his ears turning red.

"I suppose Merle can be scary when he wants to be." She handed him two more of the pain killers and what looked like two horse pills. He could only deduce them to be his antibiotics in oral form. "Here, take these. Then you can take a nap and rest like Hershel ordered."

He glowered at the medication resting in her palm. "I don't wanna lay in this damn bed all day."

"Too bad. Doctor's orders, Pookie."

Daryl rolled his eyes, but took the pills. The sooner he was better, the sooner he could leave the house. He reached out, taking her wrist and pulling her further onto the bed, his eyes sloe-lidded and lusty. "Well, if I gotta be shut up in here all day, y' can stay with me."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't resist when he tucked her into his good side and she felt his warm breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. "I can't! I promised Maggie I'd show her a few things in the kitchen. She was rather impressed with the dinner I made last night," she rambled. "And Shane is supposed to wake up today if everything goes well. Lori's going to need me. Sophia needs to be looked after …"

"And I think y' can spare an hour for me, woman. At least until th' meds kick in an' knock me on m' ass," he murmured, the deep vibrations of his voice along her neck causing her to shiver.

Carol's eyes slammed shut, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on the white peasant blouse she must have borrowed from one of the other women. It complimented her slender frame as well as her ivory skin with its soft dusting of freckles. He could spend an entire day counting each and every one with his lips if she'd allow it. He could feel the nervous tension radiating from her every pore, and he smiled before pressing his lips to the crook of her neck.

"I-I do want to spend t-time with you," she insisted, a slight quaver in her voice.

Daryl loomed over her, ignoring the pain in his side. He'd suffer any amount of agony to hold her in his arms like this. His embrace was loose, not at all wanting her to think he was trying to cage her in. His brows drew together at her words. "But?"

Her gaze darted away from his. "I just don't want anyone to think I'm avoiding my share of the workload."

"Carol, y' gotta stop thinkin' this group is gonna self-destruct if y' take a break. After whatcha been through this past week alone, don'tcha think y' deserve it?" His tongue swiped languorously over his lower lip as another thought occurred to him. "Or is it you're afraid t' be alone with me now that we have a minute t' breathe?"

Those azure orbs flashed up at him. "I'm not afraid of you, Dixon."

"Never said y' were afraid o' me." He allowed his lips to skim over her smooth jaw until they were pressed to the pulse beating rapidly beneath her skin. "Jus' o' bein' alone with me."

She moaned softly as his tongue snaked out to taste the sweet salt of her skin. "Am not," she argued, arching into him as her hand gripped his bicep firmly.

His hand ghosted over her side to give her hip a gentle squeeze. "Are too," he countered. "What're we gonna do about all that fear, woman?"

Carol bit her lip as his mouth wreaked a trail of fire over her neck, his thigh coming to rest between her own. Heat curled through her veins in a torturous path to settle in her lower belly, embers to be stoked by the man in her arms. She gasped as she hooked her leg over his hip, grinding herself against his firm thigh to relieve the ache building between her legs. He was temptation in the desert, every deadly sin all rolled up in tattered jeans and a come-hither grin. And for every enticing inch of him … she burned with need.

He swallowed her gasp, taking advantage of her parted lips to delve his tongue into the delectable recesses of her mouth. He was gentle and slow, savoring her as if she were his last meal. He tasted her fully, and knew he'd never have anything finer to compare it to. She was ambrosia, and his senses reeled for her, making it difficult to maintain control over his flagging restraint. She needed a soft touch, a gentle hand, and by god he would not fail her. Even as he began to feel the medication dulling his inhibitions and spreading a pleasant lassitude through his body, he was determined to give her whatever she would allow.

Daryl brought his brow to rest against hers when the need for air made it necessary to break the kiss. The connection he felt between them seemed to grow stronger with each kiss, every sweet touch, and he knew he'd die for her. It was more than his desire to protect her. That may have been what brought them together, but now it was so much more. His chest tightened as he fought back a wave of fresh panic at his feelings. He couldn't deny it any longer. He wanted her to love him. He wanted her heart, to hold it and cherish it for however long he could survive this new nightmare of a world.

"Love you." The words tumbled from his lips, barely more than a whisper, as he found himself lost within her gaze. A knot uncoiled within, the need to panic, to run, deserting him. He was home. She was his haven from the pain and turmoil he'd suffered for so long. Everything he'd ever wanted, ever let himself dream of having, was wrapped up there in his arms, and he knew he'd never let her go. He bit his lip anxiously as tears formed in her eyes and her lower lip trembled with the weight of her emotions. "Shh … it's ok. Y' ain't gotta say it back." He leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I jus' wanted y' t' know, s'all."

"You really do?" she asked tentatively, laying her hand alongside his whiskered jaw. "It's not just the pain medicine talking?"

Daryl shook his head. "No … I really do. I ain't never felt like this before neither."

"I love you too," she whispered, his arms tightening about her. "And I'm so scared. What if I'm too damaged? What Ed did to me … what if I'm never able to be with you … physically? You deserve so much better, Daryl."

"I deserve you. You're everythin' t' me." He winced as he moved wrong and pain shot through his side, but he wasn't going to let his physical ailment deter him. "An' you should know it ain't all about sex, Carol." She didn't look convinced. He hissed as she reached down and brushed her hand over his erection. "I ain't sayin' I don't want y'," he growled. "Jus' that th' world ain't gonna crash into th' sun if I never get t' make love t' y'."

A watery smile tilted her lips up. "I don't want to disappoint you."

Again, he shook his head. "I don't see that happenin' … ever."

Carol's breath hitched painfully in her chest, finding it hard to believe it had taken an apocalypse to find the one man who she could love unreservedly and have him return her feelings in the same way. All her life, she'd wanted a love like this … a partner, a friend, someone she could treasure. She pulled him to her, careful of his wound, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her hands soothed over the scars on his back, and she found a hidden strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

His hand cupped her nape as he pulled her back to meet his earnest gaze. "Y' ain't never got t' fear anythin' from me, an' y' ain't gotta worry that I'll make y' do somethin' y' don't want."

She bit her lip, unsure, but there was a new determination in her eyes. "Can we try?" she asked, instantly dropping her gaze to his lips. "I want to. I know with your wound we can't do much … but I want you to touch me."

He felt like his brain was going to short circuit. Did she really just say she wanted him to touch her? Please god, don't let my muddled head be fuckin' with me right now! He didn't resist when she pulled him down to her lips, eagerly accepting her kiss. "Y' sure?"

Carol nodded, pressing herself closer to his toned chest, her fingers carding through his shaggy hair, grounding herself. "Yes …" she sighed.

Daryl felt all his insecurities rear their ugly head. No, he wouldn't let his past in to ruin the moment. This was his woman, his Carol. Nothing would destroy what he sought to bring her. "Y'know I ain't good at this sorta thing, but –"

She pressed a finger to his lips, banishing his self-doubt with a single touch. "Show me, Daryl."

His brother's voice echoed through his head, offering well-meaning advice from years past, but he pushed it aside. He focused on touch alone, listening attentively to the breathy little sighs and moans she made when he did something to please her. She felt so wonderful in his arms, so right, as if she'd been made specifically for him. His lips trailed slowly over her jaw to the delicate shell of her ear, tenderly taking the lobe into his mouth to suck gently.

Daryl skimmed his hand along her side, his fingers inching along the hem of her peasant blouse. He groaned into the crook of her neck when his hand encountered the smooth soft skin at her waist. "Take this off for me," he commanded gently, his voice no more than an agonized whisper. He didn't want to scare her by being too harsh. All the blood in his body was racing south, a fiery blaze which settled into his cock, and it was an effort to keep his touch light when he wanted to take her in a feral haze of carnal lust.

It was made worse when she obeyed, and he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. "Gawd, woman!" he growled, pressing his face into the valley between her breasts, fighting for some semblance of control.

"I'm behind a bit on the laundry," she apologized with a sheepish grin.

His lips teased her, his tongue darting out to lick a long slow path there before he cupped a breast in each hand. His breath hitched at the perfect weight of her pressed into his palms. How long had he wanted to touch her like this, he mused. She panted beneath him, her lower lip firmly clamped between her pearly teeth. His gaze sought hers, asking for permission to continue. Her dilated pupils weren't enough. He wouldn't take anything for granted with this woman.

Carol nodded fervently, and Daryl held her gaze as his lips descended to take one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His heart nearly stopped as she arched beneath him, pressing more of herself into the hot recesses of his mouth. She was so responsive to the slightest touch, and he had to remind himself once again that she needed gentleness. His fingers ghosted over its twin as his tongue swirled and flicked over his treasure. He would worship her body with his lips until she made him stop.

"Daryl …" she cried as his teeth scraped against her taut bud, her face flushed with desire, and he had to reach down to adjust himself. This wasn't about him. This was for his woman. It was a gift she was granting, allowing him to acquaint her with his touch. He would be patient and vigilant, ready to give her all of himself when she felt it was time.

Her legs clenched tightly around the thigh he still had pressed to her core as his hand wandered lightly over her bare belly. A rumble of pleasure sounded in his chest at the feel of her beneath his fingertips. So perfect, he wanted to mark her, to claim her. She was his. He bit gently just beneath her navel, and she mewled, a wanton sound which made him press his cock into her hip to relieve some of his ache.

Daryl moved his thigh against her, back and forth until she thrashed against him, her pleasure building. His lips covered hers again, unable to deny himself the temptation as his fingers popped the button on her jeans open.

Carol froze, going rigid in his arms. Her chest heaved in shallow panting breaths, and her eyes were wide pools of stark fear. Daryl locked his gaze with hers. "D'you want me t' stop?"

Her lip trembled, and her cheeks bloomed with mortified color.

"Tell me, woman," he whispered seriously. "Tell me what y' want."

Carol dropped her gaze as she willed her heart to stop its frantic tempo. It had felt so good to have his hands on her, his lips driving her to a state of bliss she'd never experienced before. She didn't know anyone could feel like that, least of all her. And it had been the most pleasurable moment of her life until he had moved to unfasten her pants. No one had ever touched her there aside from Ed and her own hands, and with him … she had known nothing but pain and fear and degradation. Why couldn't she force her mind to block him out?

He's dead, Carol. Ed is dead and can't hurt you anymore, she told herself over and over again. Daryl would cut off his own hand if he hurt you, and you know it. She trembled when he slid his arm beneath her shoulders, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on her belly. Despite the obvious hardness pressing into her hip, he seemed content to simply hold her. Was he for real? Ed would have taken her regardless of her feelings on the matter, and he wouldn't have cared if she wanted his attentions or not. I'm so messed up, and yet he wants me anyway.

His lips ghosted over her temple. "It's ok. I got y'," he whispered, a litany of soothing refrains meant to comfort her.

Carol squeezed the thigh which was still between her own, and pressed her lips to his throat. "Don't stop, Daryl," she whispered, running a tentative hand over his chest.

He sucked in a ragged breath at her touch and leaned away to look into her eyes. He shivered at the unveiled trust shining there. "Y' sure? We can stop if you're uncomfortable."

"I don't want you to." She took his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm and then brought it to rest over her zipper. "Touch me."

Daryl shivered, her voice a silken caress against every nerve ending along his spine. He rubbed his fingers against her over the rough fabric of her jeans, gently, soothingly as he introduced her to this new touch. She arched into him, clinging desperately as her nails scored the patchwork of scars on his shoulder. His lips found hers again, distracting her as he lowered the zipper. His fingers danced lightly over the lace of her drawers, and her hips arched up, seeking him.

"That feel good, baby?" he crooned, nipping at her lips.

She nodded her head furiously, incapable of speech.

He skimmed his fingers beneath the waistband of her lacy underwear and smiled faintly against her lips. "Soft touch, Carol … always for you. Never want y' t' be scared. Jus' want y' t' feel good."

Daryl pushed her legs wider, and reached for his prize, a new surge of lust sweeping fast towards his cock as he felt the wetness coating his hand. Again, he caressed her before going further, giving her time to adjust.

"Daryl … I need … need … ungh!" she gasped.

Somehow, he knew just what she needed, following his instincts. His previous experience with the opposite sex seemed to be a million light years in his past, and all around inappropriate for what his woman needed. His middle finger traced her soaked slit and gently parted her, his thumb going to her clit to give her the friction she desired. She moaned loudly, and he nearly came in his pants as her teeth sank into his shoulder. "Fuckin' hell, woman!"

He bucked against her hip and his sounds of pleasure joined hers, echoing off the cream-colored walls. He was steadily losing it, and he was far from done. His fingers delved into her, past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, her walls grasping at him, welcoming him inside. He continued the pressure on her little bundle of nerves as he began moving his fingers in a gentle rhythm, his lips, teeth and tongue moving in tandem with hers. He couldn't stop his own body from responding to her, thrusting against her hip. He was so close, knowing he was going to cum … but not without her.

He fought for breath. He fought for his sanity, never having felt anything like what he had found in her arms, and he never wanted it to end. She cried his name, the sound of it on her lips feeding some long dead part of his soul. And then she went rigid in his arms, but this time her mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, and she flushed with pleasure as she broke apart and gave in to the ecstasy he'd wrought on her body.

Daryl shuddered as he followed her, the sight of watching her cum more than he could take. She curled against him, her arms gripping him tightly as he eased his hand away. It wasn't until his heart had slowed and he could easily breathe again that he noticed the slight shake to her shoulders and the wetness spreading over his chest. Damnit! Knew he'd fuck it up somehow.

"Carol? Y' ok? Was I too rough?" he asked, ignoring the telltale insecurity in his voice.

She lifted her watery gaze to his, and cradled his face in her hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I love you, Daryl Dixon, and I thank God for the day you drove into that quarry with your brother."

He smiled shyly, not used to having anyone thankful for his ass in any way, shape or form. Just wasn't done. "Love y' too."

Carol shivered, despite the warmth of his embrace. "I should get dressed and let you sleep," she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as he grinned lazily. He let her go, his gaze wandering appreciatively over her bare back before she pulled her shirt on. Yet she didn't rise from the bed. "Daryl?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, wondering how much longer it would be before sleep claimed him. He still needed to get up and change, and he debated if it was worth the effort.

"Thank you."

That had him frowning. "For what?"

She sighed, wiping away a fresh onslaught of tears. "For showing me what it's supposed to be like. For teaching me it's not all about pain and fear."

Daryl pulled her back onto the bed, spooning against her back and crossing his arms over her chest as the beast within him growled. He was possessive and protective of his woman and he'd be damned if he ever let anyone hurt her again, least of all him. "Stay. Forget about everything else an' stay with me."

Carol smiled and let go, needing his love, their deep and powerful connection to bind her to him all the more. Some would look upon what they shared as foolhardy … stupid to fall in love during such a time of unrest and danger. But she felt she'd finally found something aside from her daughter to cling to. She had a reason to fight … to live. She nestled back into him and closed her eyes, feeling her limbs heavy and sated, enveloped by his love and strength. Everything else could wait.

A/N: Next time: Shane starts to wake up, Rick and Lori have a confrontation, and Daryl makes plans. Thanks for reading!