Chapter Forty-Two

Carol bit her lip as Daryl flopped down onto his bedroll and turned on his side away from her. He hadn't showered or changed – he usually didn't when she didn't drag him off to bathe with her – and she could feel the tension radiating from him. She set her book aside now that he'd lowered the flame on the lantern and left only the soft moonlight filtering in through the screens for illumination. This mood he was in had gone on long enough. "Pookie, it's been a week. How much longer are you going to sulk?" she sighed, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Sophia. "Is this a Dixon trait, or did you take a class on how to be a first-class baby?"

Daryl rolled enough to glare at her over her shoulder. "You're an asshole!"

Carol rolled her eyes. For a week now, Randall had shadowed her every step on the pair of worn crutches Hershel had loaned him. In the next day or so, he'd finally be able to put pressure on his leg. It would give him more freedom, but he would still be her responsibility. So far, the boy had proved to be a good worker. He was limited in what he could do, but at least he was trying. He hadn't even complained about what others would have deemed women's work.

Rick and Shane had found a generator abandoned in one of the houses on the outskirts of town while out on a run – to add to the two Hershel already had in use – and had carted it back to the farm. Hershel and Dale had repaired it and run a line to the washing machine, so Carol wouldn't have to scrub their clothes by hand any longer. Daryl had seemed pleased her workload had been lessened … until he noticed Randall stuck right there with her and Sophia, hanging it on the lines. When she prepared dinner, he was the first to jump in and help with the prep work. When she helped Maggie clean the old farmhouse, the boy reverted to one crutch, so he could help with the dusting.

Even when Carol and Lori sat down to lessons with the children, Randall was right there at her side. He had little choice since the men wouldn't allow him to help with their own work. Carol was the only one willing to give him a chance. Everything the boy did seemed to make Daryl angry, but he wouldn't talk to her about it. He held his brooding silence and let it fester like a cankerous boil. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was jealous. And through everything, he was never far, his eyes always watching the boy, just waiting for him to screw up and pull a knife on one of them.

She flopped down on her back and brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "Well, it's better than being a jackass," she mumbled into her pillow.

He huffed as he turned over onto his back and glowered up at the canvas ceiling of the tent. He couldn't mistake the uneven breath she took, nor the slight shaking of her shoulders as she turned away from him. "Y' knew that when I took y' in," he muttered lamely.

She just wasn't used to him turning that Dixon temper on her. "Are you going to be like this every time we disagree on something, Daryl?"

"Why? Y' got another hair-brained scheme brewin' in that head o' yours?"

At least, he was talking to her now. That was progress, wasn't it? "Not at the moment." She really hated to bring it up, but it needed to be addressed so they could move past it. "He's doing well, Daryl."

"Don'tcha even think about tellin' me 'I toldja so', Carol," he growled in warning as he pulled one of his hands from behind his head and began gnawing on the rough skin around his thumbnail.

"I wouldn't do that!"

He snorted. "All women love t' tell their men that."

"And you should realize by now that I'm not most women!" she hissed angrily. She rose to her knees and chanced a quick glance over at her daughter before she turned her icy gaze on him. "You're just angry because he's doing everything we ask and not causing a bit of trouble. Did you ever think maybe he just needed to be around people who treat him well? We don't know what he had to endure with that other group, but I know it was bad. I see the look in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. He's haunted by it. You won't even try to give him a chance because you see him as a threat."

"He was shootin' at Rick and Glenn, Carol!"

"Because he didn't have a choice!"

Sophia shot them a squinty-eyed glare. "Are y'all splitting up? Because I'm so not going to do the joint custody thing," she grumbled, pulling her pillow over her head.

"Go back t' sleep, baby girl," Daryl said, blushing at being caught fighting with her mother.

"I would if you weren't so loud."

Daryl reached out and took Carol's hand, pulling her up with him. "We'll be jus' outside, Soph. Try t' get some sleep." Now that he and Carol were talking, he didn't want to stop. They needed to get past their problems, and there was no reason for their daughter to suffer for it.

Sophia yawned. "Okay. G'nite, Dad. 'Night, Mama."

Carol winced as her bare feet encountered the pebbles strewn throughout the dirt just outside their tent, but didn't let it bother her too much as he came out behind her. He'd slung the crossbow over his back, and held her flat house shoes in one hand. She noticed he'd taken the time to pull his boots on and grab the poncho he kept folded near their bedroll. She was wishing she'd brought her jacket out with her when he dropped the warm garment over her head.

Daryl led her off, not far from their tent to where his motorcycle was parked under one of the great oaks. They would still be able to keep watch over Sophia while she slept. He let her go, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His chin dropped to his chest, and he sighed heavily. He looked so distraught, she thought. Much more than usual. Was he regretting his actions of the past week and just didn't know how to get past it?

"Daryl –"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shooting her a quick glance from beneath his lashes. "I told y' I ain't good with this sort o' thing."

Carol took a step closer to him, needing the heat emanating from him. The moon shone down on them brightly, filtering through the leaves above, and the night held the slight chill of early autumn. "Talk to me. It hurts so much when you shut me out."

He winced, wishing he could run from the pain in her eyes. The same pain he'd had to look at every day because of his stubborn refusal to talk to her. "I never meant t' hurt y'. Jus' figured it would be easier to keep m' mouth shut than take th' chance o' sayin' somethin' I'd regret, somethin' that would make y' leave."

Carol smiled, the first genuine smile in days. "I didn't know you had that much restraint, Dixon."

"Stop. I'm tryin' t' be serious here."

"Sorry. Go on," she encouraged him.

He raked a frustrated hand through his hair and dropped down to the grass, leaning back against the bike. When he looked up, she was sitting beside him, a patient expression on her face. "There's only three people in this world I care about, Carol … you, Merle an' Sophia. I've already lost one. I can't stand th' thought o' losing you an' our girl, too. What if … what if he's playin' y'? Bidin' his time until we let our guard down?" He dropped his gaze to his lap.

She slipped her hand into his and twined their fingers, needing that small connection. "You've been torturing yourself over this. Daryl, you have to trust me. I know evil men. God knows I've been around enough of them. Trust my judgment." She leaned in closer and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. "I'm not going to leave you," she whispered fervently.

Daryl swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat. "Why?" he choked out. "I ain't got no real claim on y'. Y' could leave if y' wanted, an' there ain't nothin' I could do t' stop y'."

Her heart thrummed loudly against her chest. Even with the progress he'd made, he was still capable of spiraling down into the ghosts of his past. "What are you saying, Daryl? I'm yours. What more do you want?" she asked, her eyes bright as they locked with his. She brought her hand to the scruff on his jaw, her thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. She hated to see him struggling so hard to put his feelings into words, but she wasn't a mind reader. He was going to have to learn to talk to her.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out the keys to the bike. Carol looked down, a puzzled frown marring her smooth brow, confused. Quickly he worked something off the ring and held it out to her. "This belonged to my Aunt Corrine. She wore it every day o' her life. Never took it off after Uncle Drew put it on her finger. That's what I want, Carol. I want people t' look at y' and know you're mine, t' know you're m' wife. I don't wanna pretend no more."

She crawled right onto his lap without the slightest hesitation and wrapped her arms around him, her lips at his ear. "Yes!" She would have said more, but his arms crushed her to his chest, leaving her breathless and incapable of speech. "Can't breathe …"

Daryl eased his grip, letting her pull away enough so he could claim her lips, sliding his tongue along the seam until she let him in. It was slow and tender, his fingers delving into her short hair to hold her in place. His brow came to rest against hers when the need for air was overwhelming. "Love you."

"I love you, too. Don't shut me out anymore, Daryl."

"I won't … promise."

"I missed you," she said softly, brushing his hair away from his eyes. It had grown out quite a bit since the quarry.

He kissed her again, but kept it short and sweet. He couldn't carry her off to their tent and ravish her with Sophia there. It would have to wait, but he found he could exert some patience for her. "I don't want no big weddin' either, woman."

"I didn't think you would," she hummed, nestling against his chest. "I don't either. We only need Sophia as a witness. She'd never speak to us again if we left her out."

"Which means Carl will have t' be there too. They're joined at th' hip or somethin'," he grumbled.

"I don't have a ring for you," she mumbled forlornly.

Daryl jingled the keys still in his hand. "I have Uncle Drew's ring too. They're a set. Makes me glad Merle thought t' put them on 'is keyring. If you'd've asked either of us a month ago if we thought we'd ever use 'em, th' answer woulda been no."

Carol felt a bit of panic as he slipped hers back onto the keyring before she'd really had a chance to look at it. "What are you doing?"

"Safe keepin' 'til tomorrow," he grinned.

She brought her lips back to his, kissing him deeply. "Tomorrow …"

*.*.*

He knew he'd find her up there. Lately, anytime she felt stressed, she'd disappear up to the roof of their apartment building where she'd devised a makeshift workshop to work out her frustrations. Merle licked his dry lips as he stood at the top of the metal ladder and watched her. He'd grown too close to her. Now he found himself worrying constantly about her well-being, her safety. He'd never thought he'd allow anyone into his heart, but she'd crept in and refused to leave. He knew he wasn't easy to live with. He was a mean bastard … but not with her. Their physical relationship had grown into something much more profound, and frankly, his feelings terrified him. He didn't think he could live with himself if anything happened to Martine. Shit had a tendency to get deep when his head wasn't clouded with narcotics.

Merle shook his head. This was all Sophia's fault. She was the one who had gotten into his head and convinced him he could be better. His appreciative gaze swept over his woman. At least he could admit to himself she was his. Let someone even think about laying hands on her. He'd show them right quick what it was like to mess with a Dixon. Marty was so much like him. She was quick to temper, fierce, and she didn't take any shit from anyone. Maybe it was good she spent most of their downtime in her workshop and away from Blake. He didn't like the way that bastard watched her.

"Y' gonna stand there starin' at m' ass all day, Merle? Or are y' gonna come on up?" she asked without turning to look at him.

He sighed and ascended the last few steps, hauling himself over the low wall and onto the roof. "Came t' get y' for supper," he said, making his way over to her, his arms wrapping loosely around her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, frowning down at her project. "Th' hell is that, woman?"

"I'm … uh … makin' somethin' for you, actually."

He sat down on the stool there at the table he'd dragged up four flights of stairs for her, trying to make out just what she was making. "For me?"

Marty's eyes flickered over to the sleeve of his leather jacket, her brows drawn together in a deep frown. Deep grooves marred the leather where a walker had tried to take a bite out of his arm. She couldn't remember ever being more afraid in her entire life, and she'd had plenty of reason to be scared over the course of her young existence. "Take your jacket off for me."

Merle shrugged out of it and laid it across the table, still watching her with avid curiosity.

She held up the two pieces of polished steel she'd worked into what looked like a cuff which would cover his arm from wrist to elbow. "It's not finished yet. I want to make one for each of your arms," she said, taking his right arm and fitting the cuff to it. Once she had the leather straps secured, it did well to hide the scars on his wrist from that ill-fated run to Atlanta.

He nodded. "So, this is t' protect me … like armor?"

"Not quite." Marty showed him what looked to be an open mechanism along the side with gears and springs. She reached for the short bayonet resting on the table and secured it in place before fitting a metal cover over it and locking it down with four screws. "Rotate your wrist. Is it too tight? It's not like I had y' up here to do a fittin'. I had to guess."

"Y' made a concealed weapon? Damn, girl, how'd y' learn t' do this?" he asked, studying the device. There was a little button on the side of the raised housing for the bayonet. She jumped back as he pressed it and the blade sprang forward.

"Careful, you ass! Y' tryin' t' gut me or somethin'!?" she snarled. "Daddy taught me how t' work with metal. Like a hobby. It was easy."

"What made y' wanna do this?" he asked carefully. He didn't like the guarded look in her eyes. She shrugged and went back to work on the cuff for his left arm. "Talk t' me, Sugar."

"Thought it might come in handy, s'all."

"Martine."

She sighed and stabbed the flat tip screwdriver into the rough-hewn surface of the old wooden table. Her eyes flashed hotly as she met his gaze, her stomach twisting with dread. "I'm tryin' t' protect y'! What woulda happened if y' hadn't been wearin' your jacket, Merle? If y' woulda been able t' get away, we'd've been cuttin' your arm off!"

And if he hadn't been so worried about her safety, he wouldn't have let his guard down enough for that walker to get so close. His hands came to rest on her hips, yanking her forward to stand in the vee of his legs. She pushed feebly against his chest, but his grip was secure. "Stop yer wigglin' an' listen t' me, woman. Y' know there's a risk every time we leave these walls. Y' want me t' join th' knittin' circle an' stay here all th' time actin' like an ol' lady?"

"No," she said petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just wanted t' make somethin' for y'. A little added protection cain't hurt, y'know." She ducked her head sheepishly. "Y' like it?"

"I do." He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly.

"I still want t' leave this place. I don't like th' way Blake stares at me, Merle. He's a creepy fucker."

His teeth gnashed together, the muscle in his cheek ticking with the force of the pressure. "That why y' been spendin' so much time up here?"

She nodded, rolling her neck to get some of the kinks out from being bent over her work for so long. "Outta sight, outta mind, right? I jus' hope he don't get wind o' where I go when I ain't on watch. I wouldn't want 'im t' catch me up here alone."

"Things are comin' together. Jus' a little longer," he tried to reassure her. He'd kill the bastard outright – plans be damned – if he laid a hand on her. And that's if Marty didn't gut him first.

"Y' still haven't talked t' Daryl."

Merle sighed. "We're due t' leave on that run in th' mornin'."

"Did y' pick the team yet?" she asked curiously.

"Me, you, Martinez, Ford, Ty, an' the twitchy girl with the pigtails."

"Rosita," she chuckled.

"Yeah, her. I ain't never seen anyone with such a twitchy trigger finger, but she's a good little soldier. She ain't too fond of the governor either," he remarked casually. "We make a good team. They're gonna make takin' this place easy."

Marty narrowed her eyes on him. "Who's th' holdout?"

"Martinez. He's gettin' there though." He took her hand and tugged her over to the door which led to the stairwell on the inside of their building. If they didn't show for dinner, Blake would surely question it. "He sees some of Blake's underhanded tactics, and it's wearin' on 'im."

"What about Daryl. He still needs t' know what's goin' on, Merle."

He grinned. "I know where he is. Hopefully, I'll be able t' talk t' him this time when I go out t' th' farm."

"I still don't know why y' didn't do it last time."

"I don't want none o' them other fuckers around when I see my family, Sugar. Too many complications. Especially Rick Grimes." It was going to take a lot of willpower he wasn't so sure he possessed not to kill him.

*.*.*

Daryl watched as the first rays of dawn tinted the sky. The screens had been left open last night, the cool air easing the stuffiness of the tent. When it got colder, he was going to have to find a way to insulate them more. He'd never minded the cold, but Carol and Sophia weren't used to frigid temperatures. Sleep had eluded him after he and Carol had bedded down for the night. He was still in awe he'd had the balls to share his feelings with her. If Merle had heard some of the words spewing out of his mouth, he'd never hear the end of it.

Carol was going to be his wife … today! He felt nearly giddy at the thought. Not a feeling he'd had much in his life. Marriage had never been something he'd wanted for himself after seeing the failure his parent's relationship had been. Frankly, he couldn't ever remember such a rush of happiness before she'd come into his life. It was better than any high or state of drunkenness his brother had experienced in the past as Merle had fought his demons, he was sure. He glanced down at his woman where she was half sprawled over his chest, and grinned, dropping a kiss to her crown.

His gaze fell on Sophia as she pushed herself off her pillow and sat up with a groan. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned before stretching her arms over her head. "Dad," she whispered, "it's time to get up."

"We ain't goin' huntin' this mornin'."

Her eyes widened. They always went hunting. It was part of their daily routine. "Um … why?" she asked, clearly confused.

Daryl chuckled. "Got somethin' else t' do this mornin'. Why don't y' go make some coffee. Glenn's on watch, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it jus' as much as I would."

"Who's turn is it to cook breakfast this morning?" She yawned again as she reached for her jeans and pulled them on under her blanket. "Mama cooked yesterday."

"I dunno. Jus' hope it ain't Lori," he grumbled. "She burned th' eggs last time."

Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Don't remind me. She's been so sick lately, she keeps having to run off into the bushes. I hope she gets better soon."

"Me too, kid. Least while she's on kitchen duty."

She laughed just as Carl stuck his head through the tent flap, his bow and quiver slung over his back. "Hey … uh … Daryl, why aren't you ready? Are you sick?" he asked, staring at the hunter with wide worried eyes.

"Naw, boy, I'm good. Jus' got somethin' goin' on this mornin'. Go help Soph with breakfast."

Carl brightened. "What kind of something? Do me and Sophia get to help? Is it dangerous?"

"Boy, get your ass outta m' tent!" He snorted. "Dangerous," he mumbled to himself as he watched Sophia follow her friend out into the camp. "As if I'd put those kids in danger."

Carol stretched up and pressed her lips to the sensitive spot below his ear. "Course you wouldn't, Pookie," she drawled sleepily.

Daryl rolled his eyes, grinning as he rolled her beneath him to kiss her good morning. Of late, it was his favorite way to start the day. Her arms locked around his neck as she tried to deepen the kiss, but he was having none of that just yet.

She sighed as he hefted himself up to his knees and reached for his cargo pants. "You know it's going to drive them crazy wondering what you have planned for today."

He gathered up his kit and a change of clothes, setting them beside him as he pulled on his boots. "I know," he chuckled. "And don't y' go givin' nothin' away. Carl finds out, an' it'll be all over th' camp in five minutes flat. We don't need th' rest o' those busy bodies standin' there gawkin' at us."

She frowned as he lifted his bow, the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. "Where are you going? You haven't even had your coffee yet."

"Shower. Don't worry, woman, I won't be long."

*.*.*

He'd been true to his word. It hadn't taken him long at all to shower in the downstairs bathroom of the old farmhouse. He'd been in and out just as the household was beginning to stir for the day. Maggie slipped out ahead of him with a hasty 'good morning', but he didn't follow her to the camp where she would be joining Glenn for coffee. He had other plans, instead taking a well-worn path down to the pond.

Daryl knelt down there by the water's edge where he'd spied several bushes blooming with Cherokee roses. They would make a lovely bouquet for his soon-to-be wife. Gawd! He felt like a first-class sap! He could actually hear his brother's laughter loud and clear in the back of his mind. But he also knew this would make Carol happy. What was the loss of his dignity compared to that?

How was he even going to do this wedding thing, he thought miserably. He was no good at this sort of thing. Maybe he could just follow her lead, and pray his tongue wouldn't get all twisted in a knot when it came to his vows. Fuck! What was he even supposed to say? This was going to be an epic disaster; he just knew it.

He could already feel the heat rising in his face, his ears burning as he made his way back to camp. His palms were sweating, his heart thumping madly, and his fingers tight around the little bouquet he'd tied with a bit of twine he'd found in his pocket. All of them would know something was amiss just from the sight of him. He'd scrubbed himself thoroughly, not a trace of dirt or grime on his skin, his clothes were clean – some of the least worn he owned – and he'd even gone so far as to trim his goatee and knock the caked-on mud off his boots. Very un-Daryl-like behavior.

Of course, the entire camp was now gathered around the fire, enjoying coffee with their eggs and grits. He was ready to flee into the woods until he spotted Carol, a bright smile on her lips. Just like that, his panic subsided and the rings in his pocket didn't feel like hot coals burning a hole through his pants anymore.

T-Dog broke out into a grin as Daryl neared, nudging Glenn who sat next to him. "And the man comes bearing flowers," he drawled. "Lookin' good, Dixon. Got a hot date?"

"Shut up," he growled, feeling his face grow hotter under the group's scrutiny. He ignored them all, holding the flowers out to his woman.

Carol's eyes twinkled merrily as she took the bouquet from him. She was breathtaking in her happiness, her skin seeming to glow in the dappled sunlight. Her jeans were freshly laundered and her boots free of mud, but it was the peasant blouse she wore which caught his eye. It was white, fitting for the occasion, the bodice drawing his eyes to the swell of her breasts. "Daryl, these are beautiful," she cooed softly, pressing her lips to his cheek. She knew he abhorred public displays of affection, but she simply wasn't able to contain herself that morning. "Thank you."

"Y' finished here?" he asked, focusing on her.

"Mhmm. Did you want to eat first?"

He huffed out a nervous breath. "Don't think I could hold it down, t' be honest." He twined his fingers with hers and sought out their daughter. "Sophia, come on."

The girl had a puzzled frown etched upon her brow, but she didn't question him. She tugged on the sleeve of Carl's flannel shirt and rose from her seat on the log to follow her parents towards the edge of camp.

"Where're we going?" Carl whispered so only she could hear.

Sophia shrugged.

Daryl led Carol to stand under one of the oaks, the morning sunlight creating a warm glow around them as it filtered down through the leaves. He felt as if he were choking, which was an impossibility with his open collar.

She rested a hand over his chest, and could feel the thundering of his heart. "Breathe, Daryl. It's ok; just breathe."

He felt some of his tension drain away as he got lost in her smile. "Y' know I suck at this," he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the rings he'd already removed from the keyring.

He placed his in the palm of her hand, and she couldn't help but marvel over the shiny obsidian metal so cool to the touch. It was perfect for him. Only a Dixon would want to wear a ring such as this, elegant and understated, but no less beautiful. She glanced up at him shyly, just as nervous as he was. "Do you want me to go first?"

Daryl shook his head as he sucked in a deep calming breath. Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. "No. No, I wanna do this."

Sophia and Carl shared a look, huge smiles blooming on their lips. It was all she could do not to bounce up and down she was so filled with excitement.

Daryl took Carol's left hand in his, holding on tightly as if she might change her mind at any moment and flee. "Carol … um … " He bit his lip, trying to gather his thoughts. "I ain't never been good with feelings, but y' know I love y'. More than anyone I've ever known. I want t' spend m' life makin' y' happy. You've already given me so much … your love, your trust …" He winked at Sophia. "A daughter." The words were coming much easier now, which surprised him. "I let y' in, an' it changed me … for th' better. I promise t' always love y', protect y', an' keep y' safe as long as I draw breath. If you'll have me."

Tears streamed over Carol's flushed cheeks which she didn't bother to wipe away. "I will," she vowed.

Daryl finally smiled, feeling a weight lift from him. Slowly, he slid the ring onto her finger. It was the same black metal, but in a filigree style, tiny white pearls seemingly woven throughout. She was only able to admire it for a moment before it was her turn.

"Oh, Daryl, I love you. You changed me too, also for the better. It's amazing how love can change a person. You've saved me in so many ways." She handed Sophia her bouquet and balanced the ring on his finger, his calloused hand warm in hers. "You showed me I could be strong, and that I could trust you with my heart. You're my best friend, my partner, and my lover. And now you've given me the best gift of all … yourself. I'm so proud to be able to call you husband." Her voice broke and her lip trembled, but she was determined to tell him what was in her heart. "I will forever love you and cherish you, Daryl. I will keep you and comfort you until death … if you'll have me."

He had to clear his throat several times in order to find his voice. "I will."

Carol slid the ring onto his finger where it would rest snugly, hopefully for years to come. Daryl pulled her into his arms, her hands sliding softly over his chest and pressed his lips to hers. He poured every ounce of love he possessed into that one simple gesture, reveling in the feel of her body flush with his and the knowledge she was truly and irrevocably bound to him. That connection between them, that fire and balance he'd only ever felt with her, was stronger than ever.

When he pulled away, the children tackled them, shouting out their congratulations. He wasn't prepared for the applause from the group who'd followed out of curiosity and were standing around with mixed expressions ranging from surprise to downright tears.

Sophia still had her little arms wrapped around his waist as he draped an arm about her shoulders. "I love you, Daddy."

He dropped a kiss to the top of her golden head before Rick and T-Dog crowded in to shake his hand. "Why didn't you tell us, man?"

"Congratulations, Daryl. It's a joy to see such happiness, especially with the way the world is now," Rick said sincerely. "I'm so happy for you."

Lori was crying, Andrea was in a mild state of shock, and Maggie was gushing. "When did you plan this, Carol?" Lori asked, hugging her warmly. "I would have helped you!"

"I can't believe you didn't tell us," Andrea scolded, waiting for her turn to hug the bride.

Carol groaned inwardly. "Daryl just proposed last night. I didn't tell you because you know what a private man he is. We wanted something simple, and I could just imagine how the three of you would have blown it way out of proportion."

"It's your wedding, Carol," Andrea said, laughing through her exasperation. "It's supposed to be special."

Carol bit her lip, a dreamy light in her azure eyes. "It was. It couldn't have been more perfect."

"This calls for a celebration," Maggie chimed in. "I'm going to ask Daddy if we can slaughter one of the pigs and have ourselves a feast." She dragged Glenn off towards the house to do just that before Carol could protest.

Dale clapped Daryl on the shoulder, much to the hunter's dismay and then hugged Carol. "I always had a feeling about you two. Good job, son."

"Who knew Dixon had it in him," Shane said. Daryl rolled his eyes, but shook the man's hand anyway.

The good wishes went on for a while before Daryl was able to finally have his bride all to himself, pulling her along after him as he set off towards the barn. "And this is why I wanted it t' be just us."

Carol smiled against his lips as he pulled her into a kiss. "I'm proud of you, Pookie."

"Why?"

"Well … you didn't run, you didn't start a fight, and …"

He frowned bemusedly. "And what?"

"And you didn't shoot anyone."

"Not funny, woman."

Her laughter echoed across the wide lawn. It was definitely a good day to start their lives together.

A/N: Next time: Merle is reunited with his family :D