AN: I worked on this one for a long time. It's not exactly what I want it to be, but it's as close as I'm going to get it. LOL

There is some mention of past relationships for our characters. It's not overly detailed or anything, but they may come up from time to time. They're mentioned here.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

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When Daryl looked at Carol, he couldn't immediately read her expression. There was, at least, a hint of a smirk on her face. At this point, though, it could simply be the lingering effects of the smile she'd been wearing nearly non-stop on their journey. She raised an eyebrow at Daryl.

"Did you—bite me?" She asked.

Daryl wondered why his first instinct was to deny it when, clearly, there was no denying what had actually happened. Daryl didn't say anything. He neither answered in an affirmative nor a negative manner. Instead, he raised his thumb up to his mouth and used his teeth to search for any possible piece of hardened skin that he could nip there.

Carol's expression changed, and then it changed again. It landed on a broader smile than before, even though she was then smiling at the blanket on which they sat. Soon, the light would fade and the remaining embers of their dead fire would go out entirely, and Daryl wouldn't be able to see her expression at all. Depending, of course, on what the smile meant, that might really be for the better.

"Did you—mean to bite me, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"You do a lot of biting people on accident?" Daryl asked.

"Fair enough," Carol responded, bringing her eyes to meet Daryl's then. "So—now that you've bitten me…now what?"

Daryl's gut was pretty much wrong-side-outward at this point. He was certain of that. His heart was racing. And, to make matters worse, he really couldn't find anything on his fingers to occupy his teeth and keep back the intrusive thoughts that were overwhelming him. Carol hummed at him in an attempt to prompt him, again, to speak.

"Guess that—depends on you," Daryl said.

"The ball is in my court?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed and nodded at her.

"Did you mean to bite me like—Skip?" She asked. There was a hint of teasing in her voice, but Daryl accepted it. It actually helped to untangle his nerves a bit. He laughed to himself.

"It was that kinda bite," he confirmed.

"The—best friend bite?" Carol asked. "Or the something more bite?"

"Thought they didn't have to be mutually exclusive," Daryl said.

"They don't, but they're still up for interpretation."

"How you wanna interpret it?"

"Daryl—in the spirit of Mindy's need to interpret Skip's bites, I've been prancing around with my tail in the air for years," Carol said. She laughed to herself. It was the same sharp laugh that she'd swallowed back earlier. She hadn't expected it to escape her. She hadn't expected to amuse herself quite so much. Daryl found that he laughed, too, though his competing emotions made the whole thing feel less humorous because he couldn't seem to focus on any one feeling.

He wanted to be hopeful, after all, but his anxiety was practically burning a hole in his stomach.

"You ain't…" he said.

"I have," Carol insisted. "I haven't wanted to scare you, but…you never noticed. You never…wanted me."

"You the one that's…been married or whatever," Daryl said.

"Eventually, Daryl, I figured that…if you didn't want me, I might as well have what I could," Carol said. "I mean—you did find what you wanted, so I thought…it wasn't me."

"The hell you talkin' about?"

"You told me about her," Carol said. There was nothing really harsh or negative about her tone. It was soft and quiet. This was a conversation for Carol—nothing more and nothing less. It wasn't emotionally charged, but Daryl felt a bit of his temper rising up at the thought of Carol's past relationships.

"I spent my damn time watchin' you…watchin' you…shackin' up," Daryl spat. "You cut me loose. Told me to move on. Can you blame my ass for tryin' to do that?"

"I'm not blaming you for anything," Carol said gently.

Daryl felt his muscles relax at her words. He believed her. She wasn't attacking him. She wasn't even sounding particularly stressed. He recognized that he was the one that had brought an element of anger to the conversation, and he hadn't meant to do that. He wasn't sure how to apologize for it, either.

"Shacking up, hmmm?" Carol mused, interrupting Daryl's thoughts. "Is that what I was doing?"

"Ain't it?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"Maybe it was," she said. "Probably—it was. I don't think I thought about it in just those words, exactly, but the sentiment was the same."

"You love 'em?"

"Who?" Carol asked.

"Any of 'em," Daryl said. "Take your damned pick."

"No," Carol said. "And that's the answer for both of them. I liked Tobin. He was a good guy. I cared about Ezekiel. I guess—I needed something from both of them."

The thought that Carol needed something that she couldn't get from Daryl—something she'd had to go seeking elsewhere—made Daryl feel uneasy.

"Somethin' I couldn't give you," he said.

"Something you weren't offering," Carol said.

While they'd talked, the light had faded around them. Everything seemed to be made up of varying shades of gray and black. Everything was either solid or, it seemed, more solid. The embers had burned out. Night was closing around them. Daryl could still see her, but he couldn't make out her features. He reached for the camping lantern that would keep him company as he took the first night watch, and he lit it before he lit a cigarette for himself. Carol's hand came across in front of him, and he passed her the lit cigarette before he lit another for himself.

Usually, when Carol smoked, she had a lot on her mind. Daryl hadn't seen her have a lot on her mind since they'd left.

He had, perhaps, stirred up more than he meant to stir up. Maybe, though, it was necessary.

"It wasn't that I weren't offering," Daryl said. He stopped. He couldn't really defend himself. Now that he was thinking about it, what he'd said was true. It wasn't that he wasn't offering, but maybe he hadn't exactly been offering, either. "Figured—you didn't want anything I had to offer."

"Maybe I thought the same," Carol mused. "There was Leah, after all."

"You were married. Tellin' me to get on with my life," Daryl said.

"I wasn't scolding," Carol said, reacting to Daryl's tone. "I just thought she was, you know—proof."

"Proof?"

"That there was something you wanted," Carol said. "But it wasn't me."

Daryl realized that they were at risk of going in circles. He realized, too, that maybe they'd been doing just that—going in circles. The only thing was that they'd been going in circles inside themselves with only their own thoughts to keep them company.

"Figured if I couldn't have you…" Daryl said. He didn't finish. Maybe he didn't have to, because it seemed like Carol could understand. After all, it seemed like maybe she'd felt the same.

"We're quite the pair," Carol commented. She laughed quietly to herself. Nervously? Was she nervous, too?

"That's just what I was thinkin'," Daryl seconded, his stomach knotting somewhat.

"So—you're saying that…you do want me?" Carol asked.

"I bit you, didn't I?" Daryl said.

Carol laughed, and Daryl was thankful for the sound of it. It practically tinkled like bells around him, and it helped to dissipate the heaviness that had momentarily settled around them.

"And now I have to interpret it," Carol mused.

She turned toward Daryl. Her features weren't really clear in the dim light from the camping lantern, but Daryl could see enough to tell that she was looking at him intently. During their discussion, they'd moved away from each other slightly on the blanket. Carol leaned toward Daryl now. She reached her hand out and touched his face. Her fingertips scratched lightly through the hair at his temple. She tucked his hair back, and he closed his eyes for a split second and enjoyed her touch.

Daryl had wanted to feel Carol touching him for so long…

He could recall nearly every affectionate touch she'd given him over the years. He could recall every time her lips had brushed his skin, practically leaving a burning warmth where they'd lingered for far too little time. He could recall her fingers as they brushed over him when she trimmed his hair or pushed it back from his eyes. He could remember nearly every time they'd bumped shoulders or brushed hands—little shows of affection that, now, he realized may have gone beyond those "best friend nips" for which he'd misinterpreted all her little signs.

He hoped she didn't misinterpret his nibbling her neck. He hoped she felt the same. He couldn't—wouldn't—push her, though.

The brushing of her fingertips, at the moment, would be enough if it had to be.

But, suddenly, she was closer to him. Her breath blew on his face as she breathed, perhaps, a little heavier than she normally would. He cracked his eyes open and dared to look at her. There was a very soft hint of a smile on her face and she seemed to be studying him. Her fingertips brushed his lips and his heart drummed erratically in his chest. Just the feeling of her thumb on his lower lip sent a jolt through Daryl's body and woke up parts of him that only seemed to truly get excited when Carol was around—or when Daryl was thinking of her, intently, in her absence.

She leaned and replaced her thumb with her lips. Lightly—feather-softly—she pressed her lips against Daryl's. It was barely more than something like the flutter of butterfly wings against his lips, but it was enough. Daryl wiggled carefully to try to allow his pants more give than they were currently finding. He wasn't yet prepared to admit to her that she had so much effect on him that such simple touches could nearly drive him to the point of insanity.

Her fingers came to rest on his cheek, her thumb rested gently under his jaw. She was holding him, but not with any force. Rather, she was holding him with the invisible tether that had always kept him finding it impossible to truly leave her.

He didn't want to leave her. He never had. He never would.

"Do you—want to bite me again, Daryl?" Carol asked, her face still close enough to his that he could feel her breath.

Daryl opened his eyes to look at her. The smile on her face—that half-crooked smile of teasing—was one of his favorite things in the world, and since he'd taken her away from everything, he got the privilege of seeing it every day. Her eyes glittered with the little bit of light afforded to them by the lantern. Daryl loved her eyes.

He loved everything about her, though even thinking that made his stomach feel fluttery.

"Maybe," he said.

"Maybe?" Carol asked. Was she offended? Or worried? Or both? Daryl wasn't sure. There was something there, though. She was struck for a second.

"Maybe I'd like to bite you again," Daryl said. "But—more'n that?"

"Yes…" Carol urged, pressing him to keep speaking.

"I'd like to kiss you again," Daryl admitted. His throat felt dry. He felt afraid that she'd deny him that.

She twisted her lips up slightly like she was considering it, and then the smile took over again. She pressed her lips to his and, this time, Daryl found the strength to move his muscles. He slipped his hand behind her neck, lest she try to get away from him too soon, and he pressed his lips harder against hers than the soft kiss from before had allowed. She parted her lips, maybe looking for air, but Daryl didn't want to let go of her. He didn't want to relinquish the kiss in case the opportunity never came again. Instead of pulling away, though, she nipped his lip and caught his lips with hers, deepening the kiss. He only broke it when he needed air.

"Where do we go from here, Daryl?" Carol asked, her face still close to his. "Do you—take back your bite?"

"No," Daryl said. "Where do you—wanna go?"

"With you?" Carol asked. Daryl hummed and nodded. She smiled happily and brushed her fingertips against his face again. "You mean—besides our new home in Wyoming?"

"That's a given," Daryl said.

"I could think of a few places," Carol said. "A few—proverbial places—we could go from here. We'd never have to leave camp."

Daryl's body couldn't believe she was saying what she was saying, and that she was insinuating what he felt certain that she was insinuating.

"We gotta keep watch," he said, regretfully. "And you gotta sleep for your watch."

"I could sacrifice a little sleep," Carol said, "for a good cause. But you're right. I'll take first watch, Daryl. I'm not sleepy. OK?"

"You—mad?" Daryl asked.

"No," Carol said. She smiled at him, and drew the word out. "I'm not mad. Not at all. You just—sleep on it. Make sure you don't want to change your mind."

"I'm the one that bit you," Daryl said, smiling because it already felt like a warm and familiar joke between them. Carol smiled, too. "Maybe it's you who's gonna change your mind—since you got to do the interpreting."

"Let me take first watch," Carol said. "And—I'll work on interpreting things, but I'm not changing my mind."

Daryl nodded his acceptance. It didn't matter to him who took first watch or who took second, but the fact remained that whoever was taking second watch did need to get at least a little sleep now. Daryl pushed himself up and got up from the blanket.

"Promise you gonna wake me."

"Oh—I'll wake you," Carol said. "I'll want some sleep later. Just not right now."

"If you do—change your mind," Daryl said, his stomach sinking even as he reminded himself that he truly meant what he was going to say, "it's all right. I'ma understand. And—it ain't gonna change nothin'. We're still goin' to Wyoming, OK?"

Carol smiled up at him.

"Maybe—by the time you finish your shift, I'll have thought of a way to let you know that I'm not going to change my mind."

The very thought made Daryl's heart skip, and he felt slightly lightheaded—something he contributed to the altitude, the air, or maybe his cigarette, even though he knew that wasn't the case.

"Can't wait," he said, sincerely meaning it, before he wished Carol a good night and headed for the tent—not entirely certain he would sleep too much, himself.