Hershel read stoically from his trusty Bible in with the moderate heat of the afternoon behind him. The family gathered around the open grave in the shade of a tree to the left of the main prison grounds.

Daryl was transported back to a similar funeral back at the farm. She'd stood in front of him then, grief etching her face in profile and now he watched her as he had then, worried that she may not be sufficiently recovered to stand for long periods.

Maggie sobbed to his left, leaning against her husband for strength. Rick looked to have tears in his eyes, the rest stood solemnly, paying their respects to the dead girl laid to rest with her favourite instrument. Zack was to Glenn's left, he was leaning against a crutch, tears rolling down his face, his eyes cast downward as though hoping no one would notice his grief.

Daryl saw Carol use her thumb to wipe away silent tears, he steeled himself from moving to her and diverting attention from the words being spoken. Carl sniffled, he was to Daryl's right and Rick placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Zack inched forward and read aloud one of the poems Beth had written while in the prison. His voice was remarkably clear and strong.

"Beth wrote this for me," he explained, casting his eyes to the hole where the girl now lay. He took a moment and began:

"I may sit upon a throne of polished bones,Mingling with the scent of copper and hue of bloodshed.I may appear cold, uncaring and sneering,But, my love, you are forever in my heart and always in my head.Doubt and horror swirl about, shrieking and moaning on the still stagnant air,Do not fear the path ahead, my king, my warrior true,We shall walk together, into the dark with our metal blades drawn,For you give my weak spirit strength, my love, the sweet strength of you. But should our ways diverge, through trauma, plague or death,Think of me often, as I of you, with those eyes of yours aflame,The moment we met, my love, I became the fire burning in your soul,You became my strength, my power, whether apart or together, forever remain."

A silence fell as everyone absorbed the words and a tear ran down Zack's face. He moved back to his previous position avoiding everyone's gaze.

Hershel finished with the Lord's Prayer and they all stood, momentarily reflecting in the peace surrounding them.

Tyreese stood alongside a mound of fresh earth, and when Rick indicated the funeral was over, the larger man began to cover the body and the guitar.

They all dispersed after offering their condolences once again to Hershel and Maggie, who remained while Tyreese and Rick worked with the shovels.

Carol walked back to the prison with Michonne at her arm, she looked pale and drawn.

Daryl followed behind, unsure whether to apologise for his epic fail over her question earlier.

Out on that medicine run, he'd promised himself that he would loosen the shackles of doubt and insecurity he had in regard to that woman. But when she brought up what she thought she'd heard, his most natural reaction was embarrassment and to flee. He sighed as he entered the building behind them, hearing Carol tell their friend that she needed to go lie down a while. Why hadn't he just told her? How damned hard was it? Other pepole managed to fall in love and tell the object of their affections how they felt - why couldn't he?

Daryl let her head off to her cell, but appeared at the doorway as she was removing her cardigan.

She cast a closed mouthed, tired smile at him, "You ok?" She enquired, casting aside the garment and laying down on her bed.

"Gotta be," he nodded, his mind racing, wondering what to say. All he could visualise was his awkward, embarrassing flight from her bedside earlier. He took a step inside and stood there at a loss until he realised her breathing was slow and steady; she had already fallen asleep.

Tilting his head, he moved closer, thankful for the stealth he possessed from his years of tracking and watched her slumber. He had revelled in observing her sleep during last winter on the road.

They had often shared a sleeping bag, layered up with clothes and wrapped up close for warmth. He maintained an outward appearance of complete chivalry, as though the sleeping arrangements were a necessity and he would offer the same to anyone. Truth be told, the idea to double up had occurred to him as a way to be close to her without his motives being questioned, and he probably wouldn't have been so eager to do it for anyone else.

Those long, bleak, dark nights had been anything but cold for him, the knowledge that she believed in him and valued him burned through him from the inside out. Now he watched her still features once again; she was so beautiful and she really had no idea. The clashing of pans and utensils stirred him from his reverie. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and a thought occurred to him. ~ Suddenly coming round, Carol was greeted with subtle darkness and minimal noise. Her brow furrowed.

She could hardly remember falling asleep, not even bothering to place her spare knife under her pillow in case it was needed.

She reached into the pockets of her pants and found the clock face she still had. The watch had been a gift from Ed, a symbol of their marriage if ever there'd been one; the cheap strap had snapped long ago and all that remained was the face. If their marriage had been a sham, broken before it began, then the clock face, still ticking despite surviving the almost catastrophic lock in at the CDC, the fall of the farm and then the Governor's attack, perhaps represented her own ability to withstand trauma. Perhaps she had discovered her strength despite and because of Ed.

The time read 8:03pm.

Carol noticed that desk had been littered with candles, all glowing merrily. She stood, pulling on her earlier discarded cardigan and wrapped it around herself, hugging her arms to her slender frame.

Once at the desk, she noticed a silver dome sat, clearly housing a plate underneath. She had no idea where a dome to keep food warm had been sourced from, but she smiled at the gesture. Upon lifting it up, there was a plate with creamed potatoes, and meat in a sauce smelling of spices, which could be rabbit or squirrel. Her stomach reacted to the smell and rumbled in response. Picking up the fork from the tray, she found a piece of paper ripped from one of her notebooks, and a single word scrawled on it in pencil:

SORRYD x

Smiling to herself, Carol ate as much as she could manage. She then picked up the note and thought for a moment, holding it to her mouth. Setting it down, she headed out of the cell and climbed the metal staircase wearily, surprised at how her strength was waning so quickly. At the top of the stairs she inhaled deeply, feeling a little shaky.

Daryl chose that moment to emerge from his cell, a small walkie-talkie and a screwdriver in his hands. He dropped both objects on the floor and hurried over to Carol, mumbling about her taking things easily. Wrapping his arm around her waist, she leaned into him, despite her protestations that she was fine.

Inside his cell, which was moderately ordered and near, he eased her onto his bed before sitting alongside her. The shadows from the candle providing light softened his already handsome features as he cast her a shy smile.

"Thanks for my dinner," Carol began, her voice gentle and melodic. "The meat was very well spiced."

Daryl snorted softly, "Ty was chef tonight. I still can't feel my mouth."

"Well that's not good," replied Carol softly, her eyes on the flickering flame of the candle, "Its always best to feel things." She flicked her eyes over to him, checking that he understood the meaning of her words.

He opened his mouth to reply but she reached up and placed her finger on his lips.

"Just listen," instructed Carol, her blue eyes shimmering and Daryl inclined his head slightly in understanding. "The note you left," she started, removing her hand from his face and turning he gaze back to the flame of the candle,. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You don't have to say anything about before. I know you." Carol wanted him to understand that whether he had said those words or not, there was no pressure to analyse or discuss them.

Daryl took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth slowly. "Shouldn't've ran away." He shrugged, "I don't think I'm the man you think I am. I ain't honourable and I ain't no knight on a white horse."

"You're not the man you think you are, Daryl," Carol nudged him with her elbow, "I wouldn't be on my fourth life if you hadn't saved me all those times, remember? You've changed, we all have. You were like a boy and now you're a man, you know that. And screw the white horse thing. I prefer a guy with a motorcycle..…" She turned to catch his eye and he laughed.

In that moment, his affection for this woman threatened to overcome him. She got him. Completely in tune with him and his heart sang with that knowledge.

"I keep remembering that poem of Beth's," said Carol with a shiver. "She was so clever with her songs and her writing. Those words she wrote for Zack were beautiful.

Daryl chewed his lip and nodded, not sure how to respond, due to the fact that he wished he had the talent to formulate the words to explain everything to Carol. That he had whispered those words and that they were barely adequate to describe how he felt.

She stifled a yawn. "Mind if I lay down on top of here for a second?"

"Borin' you, am I?" teased Daryl, knowing from the dark circles around her eyes that she must still be exhausted from her illness. "C'm'ere," he said softly and opened his arms.

She snuggled into his chest and they lay down on top of the covers on his bed. She lay with the front of her body pressed into the side of his, his arm snaked around her back and his fingers traced a pattern on her arm.

Carol closed her eyes for a moment. She was happy to wait for this man, she'd wait until her last breath. He made her feel safe and warm and she never wanted that to change. Life was now about survival and about treasuring moments like these, the good ones. Daryl Dixon was all that was special in the world, he just had to believe that himself.

"Carol?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She tried not to smile to herself at the sound of him using her actual name. "Mmmm?" she answered.

"Been thinkin'" he started.

"Oooh, Pookie, did that hurt?" she put on a mocking baby voice and he tickled her ribs in revenge.

Once they'd calmed themselves he continued, "With winter comin', I thought, maybe, we should think about sharing a cell. You know, for warmth." He shrugged as though it was no big deal, he was just being gentlemanly as he had been last winter on the road. As if he'd offer to share a cell with anyone. They both knew this proposal was his way of taking steps forward. Baby steps.

Carol rose and propped her head up on her elbow, her other arm rested across his stomach. "Oh yeah," she said, nodding, an amused look on her face, "It's a good idea, sharing to keep warm." Her eyes flicked up to his and they were dancing with mischief in the subtle light from the candle. "If we want to avoid being cold, we'd better share a bed," She used her forefinger to travel up his torso which was clad in his plaid shirt, and Daryl felt himself grow hard, the tantalising lightness of her touch combined with the feeling of her nail through the fabric was all he could focus on.

He opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger once again across his lips. "Or we can just share a bunk," she whispered as his eyes settled on her mouth, "But I gotta go on top…" She took her bottom lip in her mouth, biting it and ran her finger back down to his belt before breaking out into her beatific smile.

Daryl's mind exploded with images from his many fantasises and his dick twitched in before he could try to think of something else. He felt heat rise to his face as he met her gaze, sure she'd be able to feel his longing for her through his jeans. He was thankful he hadn't changed into his worn but comfortable sweat pants. "Well," he started, sounding a lot more confident than he felt, "Maybe we should take turns on top, see what feels comfortable."

She bit her lip again, "Hmmmm, ok. Your place or mine?"

They both laughed together and Carol lay her head on Daryl's chest and he was sure she would feel his heart racing to burst out of his chest.