Author's Note: Ah! I finally finished this chapter. We're about to stumble into some new territory.

Originally, I thought I didn't want to introduce any OC characters, but as I was mapping out the last of the chapters and the future sequel story, I changed my mind. For as much as we think they know about each other at this point in which they diverge from the OG series, they don't know everything, which makes for some fun discoveries and flirtatious jabs as their relationship continues to evolve.

I don't own these characters or TWD.

Vibes for this chapter were inspired by a couple of songs from The Beatles catalog. Specifically featured are "Don't Let Me Down" and "Something" (one of my absolute favorites). Honorable mentions are "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and "Hey Jude."

Chapter 18: Something In The Way She Moves

Just as he reached for the button on her jeans, the alarm system alerted them to an unwanted visitor. He hung his head, "Dammit!" Carol sat up as Daryl rolled away, taking a moment and catching his breath as he lay flat on his back.

"I'll go," she said breathlessly, hair mussed, her shirt ridden halfway up. Daryl's eyes sparkled with desire as they lingered on the black bra visible, his hand reaching for her again-

The alarm sounded for a second time.

He huffed a frustrated breath and sat up, reaching for his shirt. "Nah, you stay here. Shit hasn't gone off in days and decides now-"

"Awww, Pookie," she stood, glancing down to re-button her pants. "At least we know it works," she shrugged, her hands straightening her shirt back into place.

"Wait-" he frowned from the doorway.

"Probably for the best," she breathed out. "Maybe it's a sign we need a breather," she patted Daryl's chest affectionately while passing him in the doorway.

The alarm sounded a third time, his frown deepening into a scowl.

Carol called over her shoulder, "I'm gonna clean myself up a little-tidy up the rest of the house." She shuffled down the hallway and shut herself inside the bathroom

His shoulders slumped forward, and he reached down to grab a pair of socks from the floor. "Cock blocked by a fuckin' walker," he muttered under his breath before taking leave and heading outside.

After rewiring the alarm system along the fence where the walker had ensnared itself, Daryl dragged the corpse away to the old burn pit on the property that they'd designated for double-dead corpses and other trash. He felt his muscles aching, not in a bad way, but she was right; they could use a breather. He needed to clear his head and really start thinking about how their future would take shape. He wiped his hands on the front of his poncho before swiping away a bead of moisture that had settled on his brow. Daryl turned away from the sight of the pit and headed for the picnic table, taking a seat atop it and pulling out his pack of smokes. He shook the box and scowled as the last cigarette slipped between his fingers. "Damn," he sighed, placing the object between his lips and reaching under his poncho for his lighter. He pressed his thumb down and watched the flame spark to life. He sucked in deeply and allowed the flame to ignite the tip, glowing red with embers. He exhaled, a trail of smoke drifting away in the quiet breeze as he gazed back at the house; she'd lifted the kitchen curtain to let some late afternoon light in. He smiled at the sight of the top of her head, sitting at the table, bent over, focused on something.

Daryl didn't imagine the novelty of these early days, being with her, would ever wear off. He watched her stand, noting the smile on her face as she walked from view. It was a comforting realization for him that in the middle of everything, the transient nature of life and death, he could feel permanence with another soul, with her. His mind drifted back to those dreams of her and the kid, and his heart did a little flip inside his chest. A future. He shrugged. 'Maybe,' he thought. Carol had been rather adamant earlier that it wouldn't be possible, and he trusted her to know her body best, but he couldn't help but hope she was wrong. He'd wagered she'd misinterpreted his reaction, that it had triggered her even by simply asking if it was possible. The simple thought of some spark of life made by both of them, just the mere prospect of it, made him feel... nervous, sure... but mostly happy.

He puffed out a circle of smoke and turned his thoughts to a conversation before things had gone to hell with Randal and Shane on Hershel's farm. It had been in that bar with Randal's men. One of them mentioned Nebraska, open space, and lots of people with guns. Rumors, it seemed, had been greatly exaggerated. He hadn't encountered anyone since at least Tennessee, and that was when he'd caught wind of Carol's trail.

No, those men back in Georgia had been wrong about this place. But Daryl felt it was lucky for Carol and him to be left alone for once. What used to be considered fly-over country was now a safe haven for the two of them. No random biker gangs scrambling for supplies or else, no cannibals, and no weird ass Governor. He huffed in amusement, "Fuckin' pricks." He finished the cigarette and stubbed it out on the top of the wooden table. When he looked back up, the curtain to the kitchen was closed. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and reached for his bow on the table, throwing it over his shoulder. He hopped down from the picnic table and headed toward the back door of the house.

When he entered the mudroom at the back of the kitchen, he was met by the sound of The Beatles. He could hear her humming as the song 'Don't Let Me Down' played softly from the speakers sandwiched between the TV and the record player. He looked at the vinyl player, which lay still, with no record spinning.

I'm in love for the first time

Don't you know it's gonna last?

He removed his poncho and took off his shoes, thankful for the heat that welcomed his feet as he stepped into the kitchen. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, glancing at it quickly, taking note of the names and initials, reminding himself that he needed to find the paint in the garage later and cover it up.

It's a love that lasts forever

It's a love that has no past

She was sitting in the living room under the soft glow of the lamp in the corner, her ankles crossed, her feet bare on the coffee table, bobbing along to the song's beat, and reading her 'Denim Dreams' book. His cheeks warmed at the sight of her so content. A noticeable smile graced her face, and her forehead crinkled as she concentrated on her book.

Time seemed to slow.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, admiring her in this warm space. He felt his heart flip as he watched her run her hand through her hair absentmindedly. Noticeably shorter as she'd mentioned she might do.

Don't let me down

And from the first time that she really done me

Ooh, she done me

She, done me good

Daryl stood there watching her in awe, committing this moment to memory in the same way he had this morning in bed and just days before, the dreams he'd had about her. The soft notes of the song and the lyrics juxtaposed with the vision of her barefoot and content on the couch had his heart swelling with pride and immense love.

The first thing to bring him out of his intense reverie was the sound of his name on her lips, "Daryl?"

He shook his head, the song fading slowly into the background as he cleared his throat, "Sorry."

"Everything okay?" her brow furrowed, voice laced with concern.

"Sure," he rubbed his chest absentmindedly and crossed his arms, leaning harder into the doorframe as all other thoughts outside of this space and time with her vanished.

Her eyebrows raised in amusement, "You get some good fresh air outside?"

He just stared at her.

"Daryl?" she waved her hand as the song started over from the beginning.

"Song's on repeat," he commented flatly.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her head turned toward the CD player. "Oh!" she blushed and smiled shyly, "It's one of my favorites, but I can change it-" she stood and shuffled across the soft carpet to the media cabinet and leaned over to look at the digital screen. He watched her pick up the CD case, glancing at the numbers on the back, and then she pushed the forward button a few times. She set the case down and returned to the couch. The sounds of George Harrison singing 'Something' filled the space between them.

Something in the way she m tv oves

Attracts me like no other lover

"S'good one," he nodded with a smirk. He pushed off the door frame, and in three steps, he found himself sliding in next to Carol on the couch, feet joining hers on the coffee table.

Something in the way she woos me

I don't wanna leave her now

You know I believe and how

"S'how I feel about you," he startled her as he found the words spilling from his lips.

"Oh," she giggled, blushing fiercely, and leaned over, reaching for her discarded book on the coffee.

His heart did a little flip in his chest as she settled back into his side, confidently spreading the pages of the slutty tome open to where she'd left off before he'd interrupted her.

Somewhere in her smile, she knows

That I don't need no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

He brought his hand up to run it through the newly cut hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers drawing a lazy but affectionate pattern. She shivered at his touch. His heart sped up in time with the bridge of the song.

You're asking me will my love grow

I don't know, I don't know

"Just cleaned it up a little,' she shrugged, lowering her book to rest in her lap, a thumb pressed between the pages to keep her reading spot. She swallowed nervously, "Is that okay?"

He smiled and nodded stupidly, "Looks good."

If you stick around now, it may show

I don't know, I don't know

"You're very dopey when you're in love." His cheeks warmed at the sentiment and the sound of her pleased giggle. She turned to run her hand through the hanging strands framing his face, "Need one of your own." He nodded again, a soft, love-struck smirk on his face as he basked in the warmth of her touch.

"Always been a Beatles fan?" Daryl asked, regaining his composure as the song faded. He heard the whir of the disc as the tracks changed. Lucy in The Sky with Diamonds started playing, John's voice droning in a whining tone at the song's start.

"A few of them."

"This one's bout using LSD. One of Merle's favorites growing up," he explained with a solemn chuckle, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

"You miss him," she stated, the book half open in her lap, suddenly forgotten as she focused all her attention on him.

A feeling of sadness settled in next to the feelings of warmth, a confusing mixture. Daryl shrugged, "Only sometimes. Said this song was a good one to get high to... Wish-" he chewed on the inside of his lip and turned his head to look at her, "Remember you said he wasn't any good for me."

She shrugged, "at the time, that seemed true. Felt like I was about to lose you to him."

He nodded and replaced his lip with his cuticle, "Think he would've been happy for us."

She smiled, "He wanted you to be happy... even if he didn't know how to show you... or tell you."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, shoving loose hair behind his ear.

His eyes drifted to the book in her hand, "Denim dreams, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," she snorted, showing him the cover.

His eyes drifted further to their feet touching. He smiled in amusement at the sight of Carol's newly painted toes. "Ya painted ya toes," he laughed softly.

She shrugged, opened the book, and returned to her last page. "Felt like it might be nice. Feels weird," she looked down at her feet and wiggled the appendages, enjoying the flash of red.

"S'cute," he mused.

In a moment of playfulness, he ran his sock-covered toe along the bottom of her arch. "Hey!" She gasped, pulling her feet away from him while giggling, "That tickles!" He leaned forward, grabbing her ankles, shifting her legs up and over until her feet rested in his lap. "Daryl," she shot him a warning glare.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, his fingers ghosting the underside of her right foot.

"Don't!" her voice terse.

He gave her a devious stare, "Did I just discover that you're..." he grazed the underside of her left foot, "... ticklish?" His shoulders shook with quiet laughter as she tried to pull the appendage from his grip. He held her still at the ankles.

"My feet are super sensitive- oh." She gasped again as his fingers pressed deftly, a gentle press of his thumb on the joint where her toe met the bottom of her foot. "I knew you were good with your hands, but..." she trailed off, lost in thought and focusing on the feel of his hands massaging her feet.

"Good?" he asked, a pleased expression at her head lolled back and her eyes closed.

"Oh my God!" she groaned and pushed her foot further into his lap. His fingers continued their calculated movements to relieve the tense muscles. Her body went totally slack as he worked his digits into the different pressure points on her right foot.

"Mmmm." she hummed.

"Good," he chuckled, his hands shifting attention to her left foot.

"OH!" she exclaimed, her head popping up to look at him in surprise.

"Tender spot?" he let up the pressure of his thumb against her heel. She flopped back, bringing her hand up to rub at her eyes.

"Guess so." She hissed as he pressed slowly against the same spot. She opened one eye to look at him. "You like doing this?"

He shrugged, "Like making you feel good." He watched her smile grow and felt the tug of pride and affection blooming in his chest. "Should read ya book," he nodded, continuing his ministrations, occasionally glancing up to take in the sight of her unencumbered.

"What?" she asked, catching him looking at her for the hundredth time in as many minutes since he'd returned from outside.

"Nothin'," his hands now at rest on the top of her feet.

"You've got something else on your mind," she lowered the book and pulled her feet from his lap. She sat sideways, tucking her feet beneath her as she faced him.

He chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment before turning to look her in the eye. "Just... been thinkin' bout whatcha said earlier."

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, "About?"

He shrugged, "Feel kinda weird bringing this up again. But you said you don't think it can even happen-"

"A baby?" she cut him off, her eyes widened in surprise.

He nodded, swallowing nervously.

"I thought..." she trailed off for a second, "You seemed worried earlier. I just figured you didn't-" she spoke in broken sentences, confusion and panic evident in her outward thoughts.

"Not if you don't," he said suddenly, trying to quell her upset.

"Daryl, I don't-"

"S'fine- Sorry I even brought it up," he sat up, hands on his knees, teetering on the edge of the couch, ready to stand and run away from her. His heart was suddenly heavy with regret and sadness at what could've been.

She placed a hand on his forearm, "Daryl?"

His knee bounced nervously as she looked over his shoulder at her, still beautiful in the lamp's warm glow. His expression, though heartbroken, softened at the look of sadness on her own.

"I didn't know you wanted that."

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a large sigh. "Just realized it myself." He looked away from her.

"I'm sorry," she frowned.

"S'okay," he exhaled. "Gonna go do the dishes." He stood abruptly, her hand sliding from his arm suddenly.

"You don't have to do that; we can-" her voice panicked.

"I'll leave ya to read for a bit," he dismissed her, his chest tight with feelings of disappointment as he walked to the kitchen. The CD player whirred once again, selecting another random track. 'Hey Jude' began to play. He closed his eyes as he stood before the sink, turning on the faucet and letting the left basin fill with warm water.

The rest of the evening with him had been tense. Daryl was still affectionate, acting as though Carol hadn't completely crushed his dreams in a moment of confusion, but it hung between them. Or at least, the guilt plagued her, lingering in the back of her mind, behind every other thought. Many times throughout the night, as they'd watched some movie she couldn't remember, he'd caught her staring off into space as she warred internally over her inability to give him a child. 'Dried up old hag,' and 'waste of a body,' she heard Ed's voice clear as day as each hour had passed before they'd gone to bed.

A tear had slipped down her cheek as Daryl held her tightly to his chest, kissing her softly and whispering sweet nothings in the dark as she tried drifting to sleep in quiet despair. However sad she'd made him, he still made sure she knew she was loved. It did little to quiet the anxiety and even less to dissuade her brain from the nightmares. Blood was everywhere as she looked down at a distended stomach. A writhing dead child inside as her own body hemorrhaged inexplicably. She screamed Daryl's name.

He'd shaken her awake sometime in the middle of the night, his voice laced with concern, "Carol." One hand was flat against her back, the other gripped around her arm as he called her back to him. "Ya havin' a dream," he whispered, his grip loosening as his hand caressed her upper arm.

Her lip quivered, "I'm sorry I-"

"S'Okay. I gotcha," he said tenderly. "C'mere," he pulled her into his chest once again. "Try an' go back ta sleep." He reached for her hand in the dark, weaving their fingers together, and soon, she heard the sounds of his even breathing as he drifted back to sleep. She sagged into him, her mind wide awake with the horrific images she'd been witness to in her nightmare.

When they woke early the following day, her mind and body felt heavy from her troubled sleep. Daryl, carrying the weight of his own disappointed feelings, gave her a wide berth as they worked silently preparing to drive ten miles south to the nearest town. Milford, population: 2,095. Daryl explained he had seen the mile marker signs for it as he'd entered the area but hadn't risked a visit on his own, focusing his energy instead on tracking down Carol. That warmed her a bit to know, but now, he thrummed his fingers along the steering wheel nervously, hoping the town wasn't swarmed with the corpses of its inhabitants or, worse, live people.

He felt her hand against his arm, "You okay?"

His exhale told her the truth as he tried to shake it off, "Just- thought this was a good idea, now I'm not so sure," he brought his cuticle up to chew.

She reached for the offending hand and pulled it to her knee, squeezing it in assurance. "Town's empty," she stated.

"How the hell ya know that?"

"Went through here a few weeks back. Didn't look like anyone had been here for a while," Carol shrugged and gazed ahead, eyes catching on an old roadside structure built to look like a large Oregon Trail Wagon across from an old highway diner with the word "RES A RANT" emblazoned on the white brick of the outside. The T and U long gone to the elements. Scores of cars, vans, trucks, and semi-trucks parked in lines to the front of the building, waiting for fuel. A clear sign that some in the area had tried to flee in the early days. She shook her head in sadness. All that energy was wasted trying to refuel when they needed to fight the dead. At a quick glance, she could see some bodies writhing behind car windows, a few dead lying between the stacked vehicles now rusted, and the ground grown over with weeds and grass. "Must've been a popular place." she wagered, turning her eyes back to him as he shifted nervously in the driver seat. "I've never seen you like this about scoping somewhere out."

"Just-" he glanced at her nervously and gulped, "Things've been quiet."

"This whole area is empty, just you and me, no other people, not even walkers," she assured him.

"Don't sit quite right with me," he bit his lower lip as he considered his following words. "A whole area just wiped out?"

She shrugged, "Maybe everyone just up and left. Found a safe spot and set up camp somewhere else? We don't know."

"Yeah, just- brings me back to somethin' in the early days. You remember that Randall kid?"

Her brows furrowed in concern, "That was ages ago- at Hershel's?"

"The men we killed- from his group- said there were lots of people out here with guns and a lotta land," he explained.

"Land part is true; definitely call bullshit on the people," she scoffed.

He turned his eyes from the road and looked at her intensely, "Just- promise me, we come across anyone- anythin'- you run."

"Daryl, I'm not gonna leave you-"

"Just promise," he barked at her, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"I promise-" he paused, placing her hand on his upper thigh, "That I'm not leaving you behind no matter what," she finished defiantly as she stared out the window.

He rolled his eyes, "Carol," his voice filled with a warning.

Carol ignored him, continuing to stare ahead. A few more tense seconds slipped by as she held her ground against him.

"Fuck." he muttered, his shoulders sagging, "Fine. I give up. You win." She smirked. "Always make me nervous- shoulda seen me when Rick told me he kicked ya out," he muttered thoughtlessly.

"Well, to be fair, all that was out of our control."

"This ain't any better. Why'd I wanna do this again?" Daryl asked her, peering nervously out the windshield as they approached a large army truck crashed into the side of the welcome sign, a plain red brick monstrosity you could confuse for an oversized tombstone with bold black letters that read "Milford Welcomes You" flanked by a series of flags and emblems for the various rotary clubs and a local VFW.

She sighed, "We'll be fine, we always are." She squeezed his thigh affectionately, and he nodded in agreement as they rounded a curve in the road, leading them around to the edge of a small town as his foot tapped on the brake pedal.

"If I was a library, where do you think I'd be?" she asked absentmindedly.

"Town square? Courthouse?" he shrugged, offering up his thoughts on the matter.

She gave his leg a gentle pat and pointed at the sign on the side of the road. "There. Library that way." He nodded and turned the truck left, off the highway, onto a residential street. They found themselves passing by rows of old houses. Some that looked like original farmhouses from the late 19th century interspersed between the more modern craftsman builds of the fifties and sixties. Solid structures built to last, still standing triumphantly in the apocalypse, none too worse for wear.

"Doesn't this look a little too..." he began, trailing off.

"Clean?" She asked and then shrugged. "Like I said, I was here a few weeks back."

"Right, but did you come in this way?" he asked her, glancing around as they rolled into the center of the town. A few signs of the world long passed. Cars were haphazardly parked on now overgrown lawns, and a few of the houses had burned down, but most of the small community seemed untouched.

"I didn't make it in this far..." she trailed off, her eyes zeroed in on the collection of buildings, a medical clinic caddy corner from the library, which was situated next to an overgrown but sprawling green space. "It's a cute town... should check out the medical clinic."

"Mhmm." he rolled the truck to a stop. "Should hide the truck just in case."

The medical clinic had been a bust, as he'd suspected. After so many years just sitting there, it was no wonder the clinic was empty; he was sure countless people had stepped through here looking for the same supplies, grabbing what they could along their respective journeys. There was only one thing that set his internal alarm blaring: the lack of equipment in any of the rooms. When he'd pointed it out to Carol, who'd been back in some storage room shoving some unknown item into her bag, she'd shrugged again. "Place has been sitting here for how long since the turn? We're lucky we found what little we did."

"Practically nothin'," he huffed.

"I think we'll have better luck at the library," she reasoned as she swung open a bathroom door, "here's something no one thought to grab!" she exclaimed, yanking a roll of toilet paper off of a cute little stand near the entrance. "TP!" she beamed, holding the roll up for him to see.

He rolled his eyes, "Probably cheap sandpaper shit."

"Beggars can't be choosers," she quipped, shoving a few more rolls into her bag. "Plus, we've wiped our asses with worse," she gave him a teasing look as she glanced over her shoulder.

"Don't-" he suddenly turned beet red.

Roughly forty-five minutes later, they were across the street scouring the shelves of the library. The boarded-up building had been relatively untouched, with only a single dead librarian roaming around near the entrance that Carol had taken out quickly, regardless of his plea to wait for him. He knew she could take care of herself, but it didn't settle the ever-present unease in his chest that something may go wrong. All it took was one misstep. Once inside and he'd very tersely scolded her, she stomped off, shotgun in hand, knife on her hip, to browse the shelves without him. "Don't follow me," she'd growled.

Occasionally, worry rolling through his chest, he'd look up through the stacks to gaze at her on the other end of the room, picking up books, flipping through them casually, and placing them back on the shelves. He glanced back at the book in his hand, "A Guide to Home Canning," placing it on a handsome stack of books he'd gathered on a nearby table. They couldn't take everything, but it was a start. He looked up again, hoping to see her standing at the same shelf but she was gone. He frowned. When he turned back to his shelf, he found her standing on the other end of the aisle, a collection of books in her arms.

"Whatcha find?" he asked.

"Just a little bit of light reading," she shrugged, walking by him to the table and setting the books in a neat stack next to his.

He picked one up and frowned as he read the inside cover, "Ain't ya got like five boxes of these back home?" he asked.

She scoffed and ripped the book from his hands, "It's actually six boxes, and no, these are not THAT kind of book." She ran her hands across the hardback surface and opened it to flip through the pages. "I started reading these before I met Ed..." she trailed off, cheeks suddenly flushing with embarrassment, "I know it's stupid, but-"

"I'm sorry." Daryl spoke suddenly, "I ain't tryin' to be an asshole or nothin' like him."

"That's not what I was saying," she shook her head in dismay.

"Yeah, but you're gonna tell me? He didn't let you read none of these, and here I am being an asshole about it cuz those books make me a little jealous you wanna read 'em all the time, but-"

She sighed, set the book on the table, and gently touched his shoulder, "First of all...I don't want to read them ALL THE TIME. They're just fun to read. And no... I mean, yes, I was going to say, I only got to read the first three in this series... and I just figured since I found them here, it'd be nice to see what happens."

"They any good? Lot's of romance shit in 'em?" he quirked an eyebrow in question.

She laughed, the tension between them dissipating. "Some, I guess, mostly about survival... and time travel," she shrugged.

"Could read 'em... together if ya want." He looked up from the table, a blush creeping up his neck.

"Really?"

He shrugged, "Don't mind the romance stuff if there's other story I guess." She beamed at him in reply, and he felt his heart skip.

"What did you find?" she asked him, turning her attention to his stack of books. She grabbed the canning book from the top, "Canning? That'll be good."

He nodded, "Some good gardening books in the stack, too. How to garden for homesteading- planning all that." He rubbed the back of his neck and yawned.

She reached for her short stack of books and began shoving them into her pack, "You know, for the record, the books really don't compare..."

"Huh?" he grabbed an empty box from nearby and began loading it with books.

"... to you." she paused. A bright smile bloomed on her face as Daryl fumbled the book in his hands. He blushed as it landed with a heavy THUD on the floor.

"See what you did there," he nodded and winked before bending down to pick up the book on seed storage. "We should be headin' back soo-" The words died on his lips, and he froze in place. His wide eyes met hers as they both listened to the telltale rumble of a car engine passing by.