Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day 26

Being alone isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Truth is, I’ve been alone most of my life, even when I wasn’t. I used to spend hours in silence, just waiting for the next time he’d come home drunk, angry, or both. While Sophia was at school, he was either at work or wasting money at the strip club, and I was just… invisible, drifting lifelessly from room to room. I’d even drag Sophia out to the park for hours when he was home, just to avoid being in the same house as him. I never knew if I was going to get a slap, a shove, or another one of his sick little ways of hurting me, that made me feel like nothing. That was my normal.

So now, when it’s just me and the woods, or an empty house, it feels quiet. Peaceful, even. I don’t have to change myself for anyone. Walkers don’t scare me half as much as people do. And if I’m alone, I can’t mess anything up. I can’t lose anyone. I can’t hurt anyone either.

But being around people after the fall, at the quarry, the farm and then the prison, it always made me feel like I was standing under a spotlight. Like they could see everything I used to be. Every bruise, every broken finger, every cigarette burn. And most of all, every single failure. I try not to think about that version of me anymore, but she’s still in there, whispering that I’ll never be anything else.

I miss Daryl. God, I miss him so much.

I miss the way he’d fidget when he talked to me, like he wasn’t used to someone actually listening. I miss the way his hands would hover near mine, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if it was okay. I miss the way he really looked at me, like I wasn't broken. 

I miss the quiet moments. Sitting by the fire and sharing whatever he'd managed to hunt and kill that day. I loved the way we didn’t need to say much. Sometimes, he’d just nod, like that was enough to let me know I wasn’t alone. He made me feel safe without even trying, like I could let my guard down for a second and not regret it.

Most of all, I miss the way he kissed and touched me, the closeness and intimacy of it. There was something careful about him, like he didn’t want to break me. He was gentle, tender even, but there was still that roughness underneath, like he didn’t quite know what to do with everything he was feeling. And he was so nervous. His hands would tremble just a little, like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be touching me at all.

The first time we had sex, he kissed every scar Ed left behind, every piece of me I used to hide. And when he looked at me, he said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. I didn’t know how to believe it, but he said it like he meant it.

He made me feel things I didn’t think I was allowed to feel. Not after everything with Ed. Not after the life I came from.

I wonder if he ever thinks about me. If he misses me the way I miss him.

Carol let her pen scratch the last word to the page with a sigh. She was tired. Tired of being alone, but most of all, tired of missing him. 

She tucked the pen into the faux leather pocket of the notebook and closed it, her hand rubbing over the cover.

Chapter Text

The prison was slowly beginning to feel like home. The once-foreboding concrete walls and chain-link fences didn’t seem quite so oppressive now that they had created a safe space of their own. After fighting their way through the walker-filled yard and clearing out C Block room by room, cell by cell, they had finally earned a stretch of relative peace, a few days to breathe, to take stock of supplies, and to let the constant edge of survival ease just slightly. The cell doors, once meant to confine, now offered a strange sense of security, and the common area, though stark and bare, had become a place where they could gather, share meals, and remind themselves of normal life.

Carol hadn’t felt so safe in a long time. The only thing that had come close were the nights on the road when Daryl was on watch. Back then, she’d been able to sleep without worrying that they were going to run into trouble.

C Block still needed some work. Between the “birthing lessons” Hershel was giving her, Carol kept herself busy sweeping the floor, wiping down the tables, and stacking cans and dried goods onto the makeshift shelves they’d set up along the wall to keep things off the ground.

“Carol?” Beth’s voice came from the corner as she stepped through the gate leading from the cells to the common area. She was carrying two thin blankets, with a crocheted one folded neatly on top. “Where do you want me to put the extra blankets?”

Carol turned toward her, surprised for a moment when she saw them. Extra blankets weren’t something she’d expected to come across. Daryl must’ve picked them up somewhere , she figured. 

“Could you put them by the bottled water over there? Second shelf, please.” Carol asked with a sweet smile aimed at the young girl, who nodded and moved in that direction. 

“Is this all for Lori when she gives birth?” Her eyes caught on the nearby supplies, the dated water, a metal bowl holding a scalpel, clamp, and thick rolls of gauze.

“Yeah,” Carol said, swallowing. Her stomach tightened. She was nervous, more than she wanted to admit. Helping bring a baby into the world was one thing, but knowing that it might not happen the easy way was another. Hershel had been patient, answering every question she had asked with what little certainty he could offer, but it didn’t erase the tight knot of unease in her chest.

“She must be so worried.” Beth pursed her lips and frowned. 

“I’m terrified.” Lori stood at the gate, watching them both.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Carol’s thoughts drifted to what might happen, the possibilities she couldn’t predict, regardless of how hard she tried. All she could do was hope that, for once, things would work out. Maybe losing Sophia had been enough to satisfy whatever cruel balance the universe kept. Maybe this time, Carl and the baby would get to grow up with their mother by their side.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she turned to Lori. “Let’s go outside, it’s gotten a bit stuffy in here this morning.” She suggested setting the broom against the edge of the shelving unit, sharing a quick look with Beth. 

“I’ll go and help at the fence,” Beth nodded, giving Lori a quick smile before heading up the two steps to the door. She held it open while Carol stepped over and lifted her arm up, urging Lori through the door. 

Carol watched Lori closely, noticing how she was holding herself and how she was breathing. Hershel had given Carol a list of things to look out for, but along with her own experience with pregnancy, she knew something wasn’t quite right.

Just as Lori reached the doorway, her hand caught the frame for balance, her body wavering as her vision swam. Carol reacted instantly, one hand pressing steadily against Lori’s back, the other bracing her at the waist. “Hey, I’ve got you,” Carol said softly, her voice steady but gentle. “Let’s get you sat down.” Lori leaned into her, focusing on steady breaths, in through her nose, out through her mouth, while Carol supported her weight, guiding her carefully toward the open air.

“This fresh air will do you good. I know Daryl’s been trying to bring in more red meat to help with your anaemia,” Carol said gently as she guided Lori toward a low wall, steadying her until she sat down.

Lori let out a weak laugh, brushing the sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand. “It doesn’t help that I keep forgetting to take the iron supplements, does it?” Her voice wavered as she glanced down at her swollen belly. “God, this one is so much harder than Carl.” Her throat tightened, and she sniffled before the words tumbled out. “Carol… I don’t think I’m going to make it. The baby – it hasn’t moved and…”

“Hey.” Carol’s voice was steady and firm. “That’s normal. You know it is. We’re all malnourished and stressed to high heaven.” She offered a small smile, trying to ease the fear in Lori’s eyes. “I used to poke Sophia all the time when she was being lazy. I’d do anything to feel a little flutter. Here, can I?”

Lori nodded, quickly wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Carol pressed both palms to the curve of Lori’s belly over her thin shirt, her fingers gentle as they circled and shifted, pressing first on one side, then the other. “Come on, little one. We know you’re in there,” she said quietly, her voice taking on a singsong lilt, as though coaxing the baby herself.

Across the yard, Lori’s gaze caught Rick’s for a fleeting second before she looked away, tears shining in her eyes. “Come on, baby,” she mouthed desperately, swallowing a sob.

Carol tapped twice on the swell of her belly, then once more with a bit more pressure, using the same trick she had used with Sophia and heard Lori suck in a shaky breath, her hands smoothing instinctively to her stomach as her tears spilled freely. And then, a quiet gasp escaped her lips when she felt it – the unmistakable ripple of the baby moving. Her hand stroked over the spot, her face breaking with fragile relief as she sobbed. 

Carol’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh, hi there,” she murmured, looking up at Lori. “See? Works every time.” She drew in a breath before continuing more seriously. “Hershel, Maggie, and I, we’ll do everything we can to keep you here, to keep you strong enough to raise this baby. You’re not alone in this, Lori. We’re right here with you.” 

Lori’s chin trembled. “Rick’s not exactly…”

“We can always pretend it’s the fifties and the husband isn’t allowed in the room,” Carol cut in lightly, her dry humor pulling a soft laugh out of Lori despite herself.

Her tone softened again as she added, “He’ll be there when it matters the most, Lori. He’ll be there for you, for Carl and the baby.”

Carol gave her a brief side hug before rising to her feet. “I’ll get Beth to make some lunch, and I’ll bring you those iron pills out too.”

She stepped back inside, grateful to escape the punishing glare of the sun. Sweat clung to her hairline and slid down the side of her face, and though the prison’s air was stuffy and heavy, the faint tang of concrete, dust, and rusted metal lingering in her nostrils, it was still a small relief compared to the sweltering heat outside.

Crossing to the shelves she’d organized with their meagre food supply, she ran her eyes over the labels, weighing what might tempt Lori’s appetite. After a moment’s hesitation, she chose a can of chicken noodle soup, another of carrots, then added a bottle of water and the iron pills Hershel had insisted Lori keep up with. Gathering everything in her arms, she carried it back outside.

At the makeshift cooking area they’d pieced together, she set the cans down and called out to Beth, who stood nearby, cleaning a bloodied metal rod by scraping it against the grass. “Beth, can you get some lunch ready for Lori? Everything’s here, it just needs heating.”

Beth gave her a quick smile and nodded before turning back to the grisly work at the fence, and Carol made her way back over to Lori. She pressed the bottle of water into her hand, then twisted the cap off the pill bottle and shook two into her palm. Holding them out, her voice softened into a tone of quiet insistence. “Here, take these.”

She laid a steady hand on Lori’s shoulder, keeping her touch light as she watched her tip the pills into her mouth and chase them down with a long swallow of water. Once they were gone, Lori screwed the cap back onto the bottle and let out a quiet breath. “Thanks, Carol,” she murmured.

Carol gave her a small nod. “No problem. Beth’s gonna fix up some lunch for you, so just stay put and take it easy, alright?”

Lori managed a faint smile, the kind that looked like it took effort, and nodded. Carol gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, her eyes lingering on the other woman for a moment longer to make sure she was going to be okay. Then she turned and headed inside, the weight of worry still tugging at her chest.

XXXX

She made her way toward the gate leading to the cell block, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty space, and then it struck her that she hadn’t seen Daryl all day. There was no sign of him at breakfast, no familiar sound of boots scuffing the floor, and no quiet grunt of acknowledgement when he passed by. He hadn’t even come out of the cell he’d claimed as his own. Her brow furrowed. Maybe he was just sleeping in, but she found herself heading for the stairs before she’d even decided to.

Halfway up, her thoughts slipped back to her conversation with Lori and how the unease she’d seen in the other woman's eyes had settled heavily into her chest. Hershel had been brutally honest during their conversations about the birth, that if it came to a C-section, Lori wouldn’t survive. They didn't have the right drugs to numb her from the waist down, so the shock and blood loss would kill her. Carol had nodded through the explanation, but the truth had made her feel so unbelievably sad and anxious for her friend. If it came down to saving the baby or saving the mother in their situation, there wouldn’t be a choice to make at all.

She forced herself to push the feelings and thoughts aside as she reached Daryl’s cell. Pulling the sheet across the doorway back just enough to see inside, she spotted him lying on the narrow cot. He was tossing a scuffed tennis ball into the air, catching it in the same hand every time without looking.

Carol cleared her throat. “Hi.”

Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. She felt like she’d walked in on something private, even though all he was doing was lying there. Truth was, she often felt that way around him since they'd got to the prison. They’d begun to grow closer whilst they were on the road, but there was also a charge between them, some kind of tension she'd never experienced before.

She thought back to the shooting lesson that had happened the day before, after she'd requested that he show her so that she could defend herself. He’d stood behind her, close enough that she’d felt the heat of him through her shirt and the slow, steady rhythm of his breath brushing her ear. When his hands had covered hers on the revolver to adjust her grip, she’d almost dropped it, startled by the gentleness in his touch. She wasn’t used to a man’s hands meaning anything but pain because of Ed, not since her father had died when she was twenty.

But Daryl’s hands were careful and gentle despite the rough skin. He didn’t push her into doing anything she wasn't comfortable with, just guided her. And she’d let herself sink into it, her body leaning against his like it was the most natural thing in the world. By the end of the lesson, her pulse was racing, there was a warmth low in her belly and between her thighs were slippery, a sensation that she hadn’t felt in years, thanks to his gentle touch and voice, the low, southern drawl that had curled around her every time he spoke. 

Since then, there had been little moments between them: a brush of his fingers against her arm when they passed each other, the way his eyes always seemed to find her whilst they were eating dinner, regardless of where she was sitting, and the rare half-smile he seemed to save just for her. He was still guarded around her, but she could tell he was beginning to open up. And whenever his eyes met hers, she knew he was telling her more than words ever could.

He grunted in response to her “hi”, the sound pulling her out of her thoughts, and she offered him a small, tentative smile.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” she said, her voice light but laced with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

Daryl gave a short nod before sitting up, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot so his boots rested on the concrete floor. “Was on watch ’til the early hours,” he replied, his voice low and still rough from sleep. “Just tryin’ to catch up on sleep.” He patted the narrow strip of mattress beside him in invitation.

She accepted without hesitation, lowering herself onto the cot. The thin mattress sagged beneath their combined weight, the tired springs groaning in protest. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she found herself looking down at her lap, her fingers automatically tangling and untangling with each other.

Due to the close proximity of his body, she caught the mix of scents clinging to him, the faint sweat from the night before and the lingering trace of cigarette smoke. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, it was oddly pleasant and familiar, and the combination sent her pulse into a faster rhythm, though she tried to ignore it.

“Didn’t get much sleep though,” he muttered, leaning forward and chewing at his thumbnail. “Too much racket out there. Swear some people don’t know how to shut up.”

Carol let the corner of her mouth lift into a smirk and nudged his knee lightly with her own. “Aww, pookie, are you grumpy because you didn’t get enough sleep?” she teased, her tone warm and familiar.

He glanced at her then, the barest flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth before he shook his head, a quiet huff of breath escaping. The look lingered just long enough for her stomach to tighten, and she wondered if he felt the same charged undercurrent that seemed to hum between them every time they sat so close to each other. 

Without thinking, or maybe without caring, he let his knee rest lightly against hers instead of pulling away. The touch was small, almost nothing, but as he was reluctant to have any physical contact with anyone, it meant a lot more to Carol. The dim light filtering into the cell caught in her eyes, softening their usual sadness, and he found himself holding her gaze longer than he meant to.

Her stomach fluttered, though the feeling was quickly chased by a familiar tightness in her chest. Memories of flinching away from closeness and of bracing for pain whenever a hand reached for her came flooding back and her body tensed before she could stop it, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, reminding herself that sitting next to her was Daryl. He wasn’t Ed.

“What?” he asked. “Nothing,” she replied quickly. Her voice sounded smaller than she wanted, as though it betrayed the nerves she was trying so hard to mask. He scratched at the back of his neck, glancing down for a moment and when his eyes found hers again, the air between them seemed to thicken, their knees still pressed together.

“You, uh… wanna practice shootin’ later?” he asked, his words awkward but sincere. “Could take you up to the guard tower. Maybe show you how to handle a rifle.” As he spoke, his hand dropped from his mouth where he’d been chewing on his thumbnail, landing absently on her thigh.

Carol froze. The simple contact lit up her instincts, activating that old fight-or-flight reflex she hated so much. She despised how skittish she still was around him. But years of being beaten into submission and being used whenever Ed wanted to satisfy his sexual desires didn’t fade easily. Unlearning that kind of fear wasn’t something that happened overnight.

She drew in a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus on the warmth of his hand resting against her thigh, the solid weight of it seeping through the fabric of her pants. He followed her gaze and realized where his hand had landed, quickly muttering a gruff, “Sorry,” before starting to pull away.

Before he could, she reached out and placed her hand over his, stopping him. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Her voice was quiet but steady and she hesitated, then pressed on. “I feel like… something’s happening between us. Maybe it’s just me, but we’ve been spending so much time together, and you’re opening up to me more. Letting me in.” The words tumbled out in a rush, her eyes searching his. “I don’t know, am I being delusional?” She guided his hand back to her thigh as if to underline the truth in what she was saying.

“Ain’t just you,” Daryl muttered shyly. “Been feelin’ it too.”

The look she gave him in return nearly undid him. It was hopeful and happy, like she couldn’t quite believe he’d just said that out loud. He blinked, struggling to process how someone like her could look at him that way. She was so beautiful and radiant, with the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever met. And him? A nobody. Redneck trailer trash with a drunk father who’d beat him bloody and a brother who never gave a shit about anything other than drugs. Worse still, he remembered the way he’d treated her back at the farm, with harsh words and cold shoulders. How could she see past all that?

She reached for his hand again, both of hers curling gently around it. Her touch was soft, her fingers tracing over his knuckles and the faint scars that mapped them, like she was memorizing him piece by piece. He lifted his other hand almost without thinking, his fingertips brushing tentatively across her bottom, and his hand trembled slightly, unsure if this was something she’d welcome. Carol smiled, her lips parting just enough to press the lightest kiss to his fingertips. When her lips pursed, the sound that escaped him was half laugh, half breath, startled and raw, and his hand soon fell away as though the simple gesture was simply too much. He felt his cock stir, all of the blood in his body rushing south as desire for her thrummed in his veins. 

Her eyes never left his as she leaned closer, her breath catching when he didn’t recoil. “Is this okay?” she whispered. He couldn’t find his voice. He only managed a nod, every line of his body taut with nervous energy as he leaned toward her. Their faces hovered inches apart, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, and just as she gave him the smallest, shyest smile, he closed the gap between them, his lips pressing softly against hers.

As soon as their lips touched, Daryl jerked back like he’d been burned, panic flashing across his face. “Sorry… sorry…” he stammered, cheeks flooding red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

She blinked, stunned, then her expression softened at the sight of him unraveling. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently, lifting a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone in a featherlight caress. He flinched at the contact, his first instinct to retreat, but when he realized she wasn’t going to hurt him, he stilled and let himself lean into the warmth of her palm.

“Ain’t… ain’t never done this kinda thing,” he admitted after a pause, his voice rough with embarrassment. His eyes darted anywhere but her face. “Just had one-night things, y’know? Nothin’ more. Never wanted more.”

Her eyes softened with an ache she couldn’t hide at his words. She suddenly understood why he shied away from comfort, why touch made him nervous and why he seemed so unsure of himself when it came to closeness. It all traced back to his childhood, the abuse from his father, years of learning that tenderness was foreign and pain was constant, just like her. He had never been shown anything different. A lump rose in her throat as she thought about it, her heart breaking for him even more.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “We don’t have to do it again if you’d rather not.”

He shook his head almost instantly, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Ain’t sayin’ that,” his tone was firm, perhaps sharper than he intended. “Just… don’t wanna disappoint you.”

Her lips curved into a shaky, tearful smile, her thumb still stroking his cheekbone. “You won’t disappoint me. You couldn’t. You’re so gentle, Daryl, and you don’t even see it. That’s what makes you different.” Her voice trembled as she added softly, “Can I kiss you again?”

For a moment he just stared at her, his chest rising and falling a little faster, his breath uneven. Then he gave a small, almost helpless nod.

She wet her bottom lip with a quick flick of her tongue, a nervous habit, and she heard him let out a heavy breath through his nose. His eyes locked on the motion, following the way the tip of her tongue glided across the soft, pillowy flesh of her lip, leaving it glistening. He swallowed thickly, his throat dry, and had to clench his fists against his thighs to stop himself from groaning out loud as his cock twitched, straining at the sudden rush of want that he barely knew how to handle.

Carol noticed instantly. Her stomach clenched at the way he looked at her, hungry and wide-eyed, like he didn’t even mean to stare but couldn’t help himself. It sent a rush of warmth through her chest and lower, leaving her thighs aching with a restless, needy pulse. She felt her breath falter, coming quicker as her skin prickled with heat, and for a moment, fear flickered, lighting up the parts of her brain that she knew all too well as Ed’s shadow hovered close, reminding her what it felt like to be stared at like prey. But Daryl would never hurt her. His gaze wasn’t cruel or demanding, it was almost desperate, like he was fighting himself just to hold back.

Her lips parted slightly, inviting him to move closer, and he leaned forward before his mind could stop him, her breath hitching as their faces got closer, feeling the ragged edge of his breath brush against her damp bottom lip. The tension broke when she moved in the final inch and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm and hesitant at first, almost trembling, and she melted against him with a soft, shaky sigh, her heart thundering as her whole body lit up under the gentle press of his mouth.

Sliding her hand up the back of his neck, she threaded her fingers into his short hair as his palm settled over her thigh once more, the heat of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of her pants, their mouths moving together tentatively and clumsily, then transitioning with a growing urgency that neither could hold back.

She let out a small hum of approval, the sound vibrating through them both, and that was when the control he'd so desperately been clinging to snapped. He kissed her harder, his mouth pressing firmly against hers, opening and closing like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue brushed hesitantly against her lip, tasting the damp heat there, and she welcomed him in with a shaky sigh, parting for him without a second thought. The clash of tongues was awkward, messy even, but it only made Carol’s pulse race faster. He was kissing her like a man starved of air, and she could feel every ounce of restraint and want pouring out of him in the rougher edge of the kiss.

Her whole body reacted instantly, her thighs clenching as heat bloomed low in her belly, the steady ache of arousal making her restless, and she leaned into him, pressing closer, feeling the hard wall of his chest against her softer frame. The sweat clinging to his shirt filled her nose with his scent as his hands, rough and hesitant at first, found her waist and gripped tight, pulling her closer until she was nearly on his lap.

He was trembling, not from fear but from the sheer force of wanting her. He couldn’t believe she was letting him touch her like this, kiss her like this, and not pulling away or flinching like she usually did. Every shaky breath she let out against his mouth, every soft sound she made, just unraveled him further. His cock strained painfully against his pants, and he ground his teeth trying not to push too far too fast, but when she whimpered softly into his mouth, he deepened the kiss, tilting her head so he could take her mouth fully. His tongue slid against hers in a rhythm that made her toes curl and she clutched at his shoulders, her nails biting into the muscle there, making him hiss momentarily, but it was soon an afterthought when she let out a quiet moan.

At the sound of her moan, his grip on her waist tightened, fingers pressing into her as though he was afraid she might slip away if he let go. Their kiss deepened, growing hotter, hungrier, their mouths moving together with a need neither had intended to let loose. When Carol shifted her leg, the curve of her thigh brushed against the hard line straining in his pants, and the sudden friction made him jolt, his hips bucking instinctively before he froze, drawing in a sharp, unsteady breath.

She froze too, her heart slamming hard against her ribs. Her palms were slick where they clutched at his shoulders, sliding against the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, as reality seeped back in, panic clawed at her chest – memories of being pinned down, of trying to escape and pain tearing through her when Ed forced himself on her. The images flashed so vividly that it almost stole her breath. But then Daryl let out a low groan against her mouth, the sound rumbling through her. It was raw, unguarded, and nothing like Ed, snapping her out of the fear in a heartbeat. 

Instead of retreating, she pressed herself tighter against him, choosing to stay instead of fleeing, and the heat of his body seeped into hers, grounding her. Her fingers were still trembling as she slid her hand up into his hair again, the other creeping down the solid line of his arm until she found his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist and guiding his hand from her hip to the outside of her thigh. The movement was clumsy, almost desperate, but the intent was clear. “It’s okay,” she breathed against his lips. “I promise.” 

His hand flexed against her thigh, tentative at first, then a little firmer as his fingers pressed in. When his thumb skimmed along the sensitive inside of her leg, a sharp shiver tore through her, her breath hitching as the ache between her thighs pulsed hotter. Her whole body trembled, nerves tangling with desire until she couldn’t tell where the fear ended and the need began.

Their mouths broke apart just long enough for their foreheads to press together, both of them panting with swollen and wet lips, Daryl’s eyes searching her face like he was holding onto the last bit of control he had. “You okay?” he rasped, his voice raw and shaky, his hand still trembling against her thigh. 

Her throat felt tight, the words catching, but she forced herself to nod, to speak through the nerves that threatened to silence her. “I'm okay if you're okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking as badly as her hands. His eyes softened as he kissed the tip of her nose before moving to her lips, devouring her mouth again with a need that matched her own. His hand slid higher up her thigh, grazing the heat between her legs through her pants with his thumb and she gasped into his mouth, the friction making her dizzy. 

He quickly pulled away when she gasped, wondering if he'd pushed things too far and looked at her. “You sure you're okay?” He asked, feeling nervous, trying to gauge her reaction. She wanted to say no, that she was terrified, that her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, that Ed’s ghost still lived in the back of her brain, but instead she swallowed, forcing herself to meet Daryl’s gaze. “I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice wavered. She guided his hand higher again, pressing it against her ribs just below her breasts, needing him to know how much she was trying to push past the fear.

Nodding, he leaned in and kissed her tentatively before she cupped his face in her hands and sucked his bottom lip between her teeth. He groaned, hissing softly, and kissed her with a hunger that stole the air from her lungs, his tongue tangled with hers and his teeth scraping her lip until she whimpered. 

Needing to be closer, he pulled her onto his lap, his hands splaying over the middle of her back all without breaking the kiss. She shifted her hips, trying to get comfortable and when the friction of brushing against him sent sparks of pleasure rushing through her body, she did it again, grinding down on the thick bulge in his pants.

He grunted into her mouth, his hand sliding down to grip her ass and pulled her tighter against him, his hips rolling and pressing insistently. He could feel the pulsing, wet heat through their clothes and almost came at the thought of removing the barriers of clothing between them, panting into her open mouth.

Carol tugged at the front of his shirt, the thin cotton between them suddenly unbearable. She almost fumbled, but when Daryl broke the kiss to look down at her, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, she made a choice. With trembling fingers, she reached for the hem of her own top and pulled it over her head, dropping it onto the floor beside the cot.

For a moment, silence stretched between them as she sat there in her bra and cargo pants. She froze under his gaze, heat flooding her cheeks as she held her breath, wanting to cover herself, to fold her arms across her body, the way she often had when Ed looked at her with that cruel, possessive hunger that was always lingering. But the way Daryl stared at her in awe made those thoughts disappear in an instant. 

His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving as he lifted his hand, his fingers brushing over the curve of her breast, pushed up because of the bra she was wearing. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “Christ, Carol…” His voice was rough as he let his fingers move between her breasts, brushing a jagged scar on her sternum. 

“I'm sorry about the scars,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “But I want you to look at me. Not like Ed did. Just… look at me.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers as he pulled his hand back, settling both palms firmly at her waist. His thumbs brushed against her ribs, pausing when they stuttered over another scar with raised and puckered flesh that felt as if it had been stitched together haphazardly, a reminder of all the pain she’d carried. His jaw tightened for a second, but when he looked at her again, his expression softened.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever seen,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing red. “And I ain’t just sayin’ it ‘cause'a this. I’m sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true.”

When he'd finished talking, her lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of his honesty left her throat too tight to speak, so instead she gave him a shaky, wobbly smile. Lifting her hand, she brushed her thumb gently over his bottom lip, feeling the warmth of his breath against her fingertip, her heart thundering in her chest so hard it almost hurt.

Daryl shifted, lifting the hand that had been pressed between her breasts. He brought it up slowly, almost uncertain, and rested his palm against the side of her neck. His fingers curled lightly, his thumb grazing the hollow just beneath her ear where her pulse beat frantically under the skin. “It okay if I kiss you here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallowed hard and nodded, clearing her throat to steady herself. “Yes.”

The small, crooked smile he gave her made her heart ache. It was soft, almost shy, but filled with a warmth that made her want to melt into him completely. Then he dipped his head, brushing his lips against her throat before opening them against her skin, slow and deliberate. He kissed his way down the column of her neck, each press a little deeper, his tongue flicking out to taste her flesh, sending shivers racing through her body.

A shaky breath slipped out of Carol’s throat when his mouth found the sensitive spot just beneath her jaw. She gripped his biceps as her head tilted back, granting him more access and the warmth of his lips, the faint scrape of his stubble and the wet flick of his tongue against her skin all sent a fresh wave of heat through her body.

She shifted on his lap again, rolling her hips in a slow, tentative movement that dragged her center against the hard length straining beneath his jeans, and the friction tore a breathy, unguarded “God…” from her lips before she could catch it. His tongue traced a hot line along her jaw, the sensation leaving her cheeks burning, half with embarrassment at the sound she’d made and half with need she couldn’t tamp down. The rush of it all made her freeze, her hips going still as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, but instead of pulling away and stopping everything between them, she leaned back just slightly, steadying her breath while her trembling hands slid down between their bodies. 

Hesitating for only a moment, she reached for his belt buckle, the metal cool and unyielding against her trembling fingers. She cursed herself for shaking so much, though she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or adrenaline coursing through her. Daryl’s breath caught as he felt what she was doing, his chest rising faster against hers, but he didn’t stop her. Instead, his hands slid up her back, pressing her closer to his chest.

The belt finally came loose with a sharp clink, and her breath stuttered out in a mix of relief and anticipation. She glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide and uncertain even as her body pressed greedily against his and his gaze met hers, dark and intense, his lips parted like he was trying to form words but couldn’t. 

She eased the button through the hole and slid the zipper down slowly. The sound was deafening to her ears, her cheeks burning with the realization of how far she was taking things. Still, she pushed forward, her pulse hammering as she slipped her hand beneath the band of his boxers and found the hard heat of his cock.

He let out a groan the moment her fingers wrapped around him, his hips jerking up instinctively into her touch. “Christ, Carol…” he rasped, his hand clamping down on her thigh as if he needed to steady himself. The weight and heat of him in her palm made her dizzy, and though her hand trembled, she stroked him with a slow, cautious rhythm, fascinated by the way his breath stuttered.

She shifted her hips, sliding until his thigh was wedged between her legs, and when she pressed down, the friction sent another sharp wave of pleasure rippling through her body. The sounds spilling from her – soft whimpers and uneven breaths she couldn’t hold back, seemed to drive him even further out of control. His forehead dropped against her shoulder, his breath hot on her skin as he stifled a rough groan, his hips bucking helplessly while her hand continued to stroke him.

“Carol?”

The voice cut in suddenly, sharp and jarring, and she froze, her entire body locking up as her hand stilled. Daryl swore under his breath, his eyes snapping open wide, panic flashing across his face.

“Carol, you in there?” Rick’s voice called again, closer this time, his footsteps echoing along the catwalk.

She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned, scrambling to tug his zipper up with clumsy fingers, her heart slamming against her ribs. She could barely breathe, adrenaline crashing through her as she scrambled off his lap, grabbing her top from the floor and tugging it over her head in record time. Daryl shifted quickly, adjusting himself before fastening his pants button and belt, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

For a moment they just stared at each other, breathless and wild-eyed, caught between the heat of what they’d just started and the reality pressing in outside the cell.

Chapter Text

Snapping herself out of her panicked daze, Carol quickly smoothed her hands over her hair and tugged at her top, as if she could erase the fact that she was just moments away from having sex with Daryl. Still, regardless of what she tried, her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, so she knew anyone who looked too closely would notice. Drawing in a steadying breath, she pulled back the curtain that served as his cell door and stepped out just as Rick was making his way down the catwalk toward her.

“Rick! Sorry, I was just…uh, talking to Daryl,” she said, her voice a little too quick, betraying her nerves. She licked her lips without thinking and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look casual. “Is something wrong?”

Rick’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he glanced away, only to look back again. He caught the flush in her cheeks, the red mark at the bottom of her neck, and the unmistakable swell of her lips. His mouth twitched like he was holding back a remark, or a laugh, and Carol felt her stomach flutter nervously and shifted her weight, frowning slightly as she waited for him to speak.

“Yeah, sorry.” He said finally, clearing his throat and rubbing at his chin to mask his expression. “Hershel and I are plannin’ to search more of the prison, see if we can find any medical supplies. If Lori needs a C-section, we’ll need options. We were wonderin’ if you’d want to come along, see if anythin’ stands out to you?”

Before Carol could answer, Daryl’s voice cut in from behind her. “She ain’t doin’ that. I’ll go instead of her.”

Carol turned, startled by his protectiveness, and saw the stubborn set of his jaw. “And how exactly are you supposed to know what we need for Lori and the baby?” she countered, her eyebrows raised. “I need to look for anything that could help and you won't have a clue, I'm afraid. I’ve got my knife and I know how to use a gun now; I'll be fine.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he scowled before letting his eyes meet hers. “Don’t like the thought of you doin’ that. Won’t be there to protect you.”

Her heart skipped, the raw honesty of his words making her soften, so she laid a hand gently on his arm. “I’ll be okay. I can fight and I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He gave a reluctant nod, his gaze lingering on her like he was willing her to stay instead. For a moment, she thought he might reach for her again, to kiss her right there in front of Rick or drag her back into his cell where he could keep her close, but then Rick cleared his throat behind them, the sound echoing against the metal and shattering the moment between them.

Shooting a glare at Rick, he brushed his hand against her waist, a fleeting touch that sent heat through her, and then turned sharply on his heel, disappearing back into his cell.

Exhaling softly, Carol turned back to Rick and gave him a small smile. “I just need to grab my knife from my cell. I’ll meet you in the common area in a minute or so.”

He nodded and moved off down the catwalk without a word. Once his footsteps faded, Carol let out the breath she’d been holding before heading to her cell to collect her knife.

XXXX

Maggie had ended up joining their little search mission, and naturally, Glenn followed, which suited Carol just fine. More people meant she could melt into the background, unnoticed, just like she had at the quarry. None of them really spoke to her unless it was to point her in a direction or give a quick instruction, and the quiet left her space to think – mostly about Daryl.

Her cheeks flushed hot at the memory of him. She thought about the way he’d kissed her like he’d been starved for it, like he couldn’t get close enough, and the feel of his hands on her bare skin after she’d tugged her top off. She remembered the heavy weight of his cock in her hand, and the way pressing herself against his thigh had lit up every nerve in her body, sparking a hunger she hadn’t felt in years. She also remembered the silky heat of his shaft beneath her fingers, the ridges of swollen veins her fingers had bumped over as she stroked him, and heat pooled low in her belly again, sharp and insistent, making her shift uncomfortably as the ache between her thighs returned.

But tangled up in that want was a tight knot of nerves. With Daryl, everything was new and uncharted ground. She wanted to believe she could push past her fear, that she could give herself to him completely, but deep down she knew the truth. If it came to them having sex, she would probably freeze, panic and pull away at the last moment because Ed had left her scarred in every single way that a person could be scarred. His hands, his words, his violence, and his control had carved pieces out of her that left her flinching at shadows and carrying wounds that ran deeper than the jagged purple scars on her skin. 

And Daryl… Daryl didn’t deserve that burden. He didn’t deserve the broken pieces of herself she'd so desperately tried to glue back together. She made a decision, almost without realizing, that when she got back, she would talk to him. To tell him that it was okay if he wanted to pretend that nothing ever happened between them, to walk away before she dragged him down with her.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed a door the others had missed. “Guys?” she called, her voice a little too high. “There’s a door here. Should we check it out?”

Rick turned, following her gaze. “Good eye, Carol. I was so focused on lookin' out for walkers, I missed it.”

She nodded and stepped forward, her fingers curling around the handle as she opened the door. It flew open and three walkers lurched out of the dark in a sudden rush, their jaws snapping frantically.

Carol stumbled back, quickly lifting her knife, her pulse hammering in her ears when one of the walkers lunged straight for her. She slashed at it and missed, the momentum sending her staggering. Her boot caught on the cracked flooring, so the next thing she knew, she was going down, the breath punched from her lungs as she hit the floor.

Her knife skittered out of reach, clanging against the wall and she barely had time to register where it landed before the walker pitched forward, tripping over her legs and slamming down on top of her.

The weight was crushing, pinning her to the ground as the stench of rot, blood and earth hit her nose and then its mouth was right there, teeth snapping inches from her face. She twisted, shoving her forearms up between them, the rotting skin slick against her palms as she tried to push its head away. Its teeth clacked louder, so close she could feel the spray of spit against her cheek, and her arms shook with the effort of keeping the walker's mouth away from her skin as she bucked her hips, trying to throw it off.

“Carol!” Hershel’s shout rang out as he ran towards her, Rick, Glenn and Maggie busy dealing with the other two walkers. 

She barely heard him, her own panicked breaths and the guttural snarl of the walker filling her ears and drowning everything else out. She shrieked as its jaw snapped down again, closing around air just a few inches from her arm, and turned her head away out of instinct.

Hershel appeared at her side with his machete raised high, and relief surged through her chest until the walker jerked its head sideways towards the easier target in a sudden movement and sank its teeth deep into Hershel’s calf with a growl. 

His shout of pain tore through the air, blood spraying and splattering on her skin, and a scream caught in her throat, choked off by the weight of the monster pressing her down. 

Maggie froze at the sound of her father’s cry, then ripped her knife free from the skull of the walker she’d been putting down. “Daddy! Daddy, no!” she screamed, sprinting toward him. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees and drove the blade into the temple of the walker that was gnawing at the flesh of his calf, yanking it free only when it went limp.

Glenn was right behind her, grabbing the corpse by the shoulders and heaving it off Carol while Maggie threw her arms around Hershel, easing him against the wall as blood gushed from the ragged wound in his calf.

“Rick! Rick!” Maggie shouted, her voice breaking. “He’s been bit!”

Rick had just put down the last walker and spun toward them, his chest heaving. His eyes widened at the sight of Hershel’s shredded leg, the blood spilling fast onto the concrete. Glenn stripped off his jacket, wrapping it tightly around the wound and when he knotted the sleeves to apply more pressure, Hershel groaned once and went limp, his face pale as chalk. Maggie caught him with a shriek as he crumpled to the floor, lowering his head into her lap, sobs shaking her shoulders.

Rick rushed over, flicking walker blood from the blade of his hatchet onto the floor. “Shit,” he hissed, his voice raw with panic. “Okay, we… we’ve gotta find somewhere to do this. Can’t do it out here.” Sweat rolled down his temple as his gaze darted around desperately, looking for somewhere that they could go.

Carol pushed herself upright, her chest still heaving from the struggle, her body aching from where she’d hit the ground, and she felt her head swim, but Maggie’s sobs snapped her into focus. “We can’t waste time,” she said, her voice firm despite the panic running through her body. “The longer we wait, the less chance he has, even if we amputate.”

Rick’s eyes locked on her, then he nodded quickly, pulling himself together. “Go ahead of us and look for any kind of room we can use. And a cart – we can't carry him far, so we need something to move him on.”

Carol swallowed hard and forced herself to her feet, legs trembling as she nodded. She spared one last look at Hershel who was pale and unmoving, Maggie clutching his hand tightly and then turned, moving quickly down the hallway.

XXXX

After what felt like forever but could only have been a minute or two, Carol stumbled into what looked like a cafeteria. Rows of long tables and benches stretched across the space, and relief washed through her because it was exactly what they needed. She scanned the room and spotted a cart near the far wall stacked high with trays, so she hurried over, swiping the trays off and piling them onto one of the tables, her hands trembling so badly that a few clattered noisily against the metal surface.

Once the cart was empty, she spun it around and shoved it toward the door, her breath quick and shallow. Every second felt like it was stealing more time from Hershel. Pushing hard, she maneuvered it through the hallways and back toward the others, silently begging that he was still holding on.

When she reached them, she stopped short as her heart sank. Hershel was still out cold, his chest rising and falling so faintly it was hard to see, and the knot of dread in her stomach tightened until she thought she might be sick. She dragged the cart closer and forced the words out between breaths, her ribs aching from the earlier altercation with the walker. “Here, put him on this. I found a cafeteria. There are plenty of big tables that we can use for the amputation.” The words came in a rush, shaky but urgent.

Rick nodded sharply. “Good work, Carol.” Then he turned to Glenn. “Help me lift him.”

Glenn straightened from where he’d been crouched beside Maggie, one hand on her shoulder as she kept her head bent over her father's face. “Maggie,” he said softly, his voice steady and gentle, “We’ve gotta move him. We’ll take him to the cafeteria and deal with his leg there.” His tenderness made Carol’s throat tighten, her eyes stinging as she blinked hard against tears that suddenly welled. Hershel was such a vital part of their little family, not only for his medical expertise, but for his positive outlook on things and for his ability to smooth things out when they were tense amongst the group.  

Maggie sniffled, swiping her sleeve across her face before nodding. Reluctantly, she shifted aside, letting Rick stoop to grab her father under the arms. Glenn took his legs, and together they lifted him carefully onto the cart. Hershel let out a faint moan of pain when he was moved, and his face contorted briefly before he slipped back into unconsciousness. Carol pressed her lips together to stop a sob from escaping.

“Carol, lead the way,” Rick barked, urgency cutting through her haze of misery.

She nodded quickly, wiping her damp palms against her thighs. Turning on her heel, she rushed forward down the hallway, forcing herself to focus on the task. Behind her, the screech of the cart’s wheels echoed through the prison hallway as their small, desperate procession followed close.

“Carol, go look for rags, cloths, anything you can find. If there are cleaning supplies, bring those too,” Rick barked as they shoved through the cafeteria doors, the sound of their boots echoing across the wide, empty space.

Carol didn’t waste a second. She darted toward the back of the room, her eyes locking onto a section behind a row of heavy metal shutters. It had to be the kitchen. Gripping the door handle, she muttered a quiet prayer to herself as she turned it and found that it was unlocked. 

The air inside was stale, tinged with grease and dust. Her gaze swept the room, finding steel counters lined with forgotten utensils, shelves half-stocked with cans and a row of industrial gas stoves along the far wall. She rushed to one, pressing the ignition, and the sharp hiss of gas filled the silence, followed by a stutter of sparks before a blue flame flared to life as she turned the knob.

Shutting it off quickly, she spun to the cupboards, yanking doors open one after the other. Cans clattered inside, boxes of pasta shifted and tumbled, but she barely looked at them. Time was running out with Hershel in the other room. At the fourth cupboard, she found shelves stacked high with dishcloths and towels, so she turned on her heel and ran back into the cafeteria. 

“There’s a gas stove in there, it still works but I don’t know how long for. We’ll need it to cauterize his leg after the amputation. We could move one of the tables inside and do it all in the kitchen. There’s a whole cupboard full of towels and cloths so there’s plenty for us to use.”

Rick nodded, rubbing a hand over his face, the weight of the decision visible in the tension of his shoulders. “I think that would be best. Glenn, help me move one of the tables into the kitchen. Maggie, Carol – wheel Hershel down and we’ll let you know when to bring him through.”

Carol gave a sharp nod, already moving to the cart. Maggie was crouched at her father’s side, clutching his hand as though letting go would mean losing him. Carol gently touched her arm. “Come on, let’s move him.”

Together, they pushed the cart toward the kitchen. The rattling wheels echoed off the cafeteria walls, each squeak and clatter a cruel reminder of how little time they had left. Carol kept glancing at Hershel’s face, noticing how chalky his skin was, his lips pale, and the sweat clinging to his forehead. 

“Daddy, stay with me,” Maggie whispered, her voice cracking as she smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead with trembling fingers. Carol’s throat tightened at the sound, but she forced herself to keep pushing, to focus on getting him to where they might still save him.

By the time they reached the kitchen doors, Rick and Glenn had already dragged one of the heavy tables inside. The legs screeched across the tiled floor as they shoved it into place near the stoves. “Bring him in. We’ll lay him out here.” Rick called.

Carol and Maggie maneuvered the cart through the doorway, Carol guiding the wheels over the threshold while Maggie kept hold of Hershel’s shoulders to steady him. When they drew up beside the table, Glenn moved quickly to grab Hershel’s legs again, with Rick taking his upper body. “On three,” Rick muttered, and they lifted him with care, settling him on the cold steel surface.

Hershel groaned faintly at the movement but didn’t wake, his head lolling to one side and Maggie pressed her lips to his temple, her tears dripping onto his skin. Carol’s hands shook as she spread the towels one of the men had grabbed out of the open cupboard, laying them out beneath him to catch the blood she knew was coming. 

After dragging the table into the kitchen, Glenn had found some cleaning supplies and cleaned Rick’s hatchet, ready for it to be used. Maggie, still sobbing, rolled up Hershel’s pant leg before taking her belt off, wrapping it below his knee to create a tourniquet. Rick stood over Hershel, his hatchet gripped so tight in his hand that his knuckles turned white. He looked at Glenn, then at Carol and Maggie. His voice was low as he spoke, though Carol could hear the shake of nerves. “We do this now. No hesitation.”

Carol swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. Her palms were slick with sweat, her heartbeat hammering in her ears, but she knew he was right, every second they hesitated was another second the infection had to spread through Hershel’s body.

“Carol, get the towel and press down as soon as it’s done. Glenn, keep Maggie back, we can’t have her gettin’ in the way,” Rick instructed, his voice clipped and urgent.

“No!” Maggie’s cry tore through the kitchen. She clutched at her father’s arm, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t…please –”

Rick shook his head sharply. “It’s the only way to save him. I’m sorry, Maggie.”

Carol stepped forward, gently prying Maggie’s trembling hands away and holding them in her own. “Maggie, you have to let us try,” she said softly, though her own voice shook. “If we don’t, we will lose him for sure.”

Maggie’s chest heaved, her sobs ragged as they echoed around the kitchen, but she finally nodded, pressing her fist against her mouth as Glenn wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back.

Rick bent down and peeled Glenn’s makeshift bandage away. The skin around the bite was already mottled and angry red, with blood still seeping out. Carol grabbed a towel, her whole body trembling.

Rick’s eyes flicked up once more, meeting hers for just a moment as he braced Hershel’s leg against the table, then he raised the hatchet high and slammed it back down.

The sound of the blade striking flesh and bone split the air, a sickening crack that echoed through the tiled kitchen. Blood splattered and gushed, hot and dark, spilling across the table and for a split second Hershel stayed still, then his eyes flew open and he screamed, a guttural, agonized sound that made Carol’s blood run cold.

“Hold him down!” Rick barked.

Glenn lunged forward, pinning Hershel’s shoulders to the table as his father-in-law thrashed, his face contorted in pure agony. “I’ve got him! Do it again, Rick!” Glenn shouted through gritted teeth, his arms straining against Hershel’s strength.

Rick brought the hatchet down again, the final strike severing the mangled leg. Hershel hadn’t stopped screaming, the sound tearing through the room, raw and unending, his hands clawing at the table as Glenn struggled to keep him pinned.

Carol slammed the towel against the bloody stump, her arms shaking as she pressed down with all her weight. Blood soaked through instantly, hot and slick against her palms as Hershel bucked beneath Glenn’s grip, bellowing in pain, his face drenched in sweat.

“Stay with us, Hershel!” Carol gasped, leaning over him, her voice high-pitched with desperation. She scrabbled for another towel, watching his blood darken the white cotton immediately. 

Maggie sobbed helplessly in the corner, slapping her hands over her ears, her eyes wide with horror as she watched her father fight against the agony.

Rick staggered back, his chest heaving, the hatchet dripping crimson. His face was grim. “Carol, apply more pressure. Glenn, don’t let him move. We’ve gotta cauterize it now.”

Carol’s arms ached from applying pressure, her hands and forearms slippery with blood as she added another towel to the wad, but she didn’t let up. Hershel was still thrashing weakly under Glenn’s grip, his screams hoarse but unrelenting, each one stabbing through her chest.

“Rick, he's bleeding out, you've got to hurry!” she shouted over the chaos.

Rick nodded sharply, his face pale, sweat dripping from his brow. He dropped the hatchet with a clatter and turned toward the stove, twisting the knob until the gas hissed to life before grabbing a long metal spatula from the counter, thrusting it into the blue flame.

Maggie’s sobs filled the room as she clung to the doorway, unable to tear her eyes away. “Daddy, please – oh God, please…”

Hershel’s head jerked violently against Glenn’s arm when he heard Maggie’s broken pleas, his eyes wild, spit flecking his lips as he tried to buck himself free. “Hold him tighter, Glenn!” Rick barked, his voice edged with panic.

“I’m trying!” Glenn grunted, straining with everything he had to keep Hershel pinned to the blood-slick table. “He’s strong!”

Carol leaned forward, her knees digging into the table as she pressed harder, knowing Rick would need access any second. Her heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she thought it might crack. “Rick, faster!”

Moments later, the spatula glowed orange, the heat radiating off it in waves and Rick clenched his jaw, pulled it from the flame, and stepped toward the table. “Carol, now! Move!”

Carol swallowed hard, her stomach twisting as she peeled the towels back from Hershel’s stump with trembling hands, lifting them just enough to expose the gaping wound. Blood immediately gushed across the table, hot and slick against the metal surface.

Hershel let out a broken, animal cry, his back arching, as if he knew what was coming, and Carol pressed her palm against his thigh, steadying both him and herself, as she braced for what Rick was about to do.

Then, without hesitation, Rick pressed the sizzling metal down onto the open wound.

The sound of flesh searing filled the air with a sickening hiss and Hershel let out a scream so loud and animalistic it barely sounded human, a cry of agony that rattled Carol to her bones. His entire body bucked off the table, forcing Glenn to slam his forearm across Hershel’s chest, his teeth bared as he pinned him down with everything he had.

“Hold him!” Rick roared, pressing the glowing metal harder into the wound, slowly moving it around to sever the exposed arteries. The smell of burnt flesh hit Carol’s nose, acrid and nauseating, and her stomach lurched as bile threatened to rise, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to stay steady.

“I’ve got him, I’ve got him!” Glenn shouted, his voice shaking as Hershel clawed at his shirt, fingernails digging into fabric in blind agony.

Maggie screamed and fell to her knees, covering her face as tears poured down her cheeks. “Stop, you’re killin’ him!”

Carol bit down on her own cry and leaned closer to Hershel’s face, her voice breaking as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Stay with us, Hershel! You hear me? You hold on!”

Seconds later, Rick pulled the spatula away. The bleeding had slowed, and the flesh was blackened, the heat sealing it shut, though Hershel still thrashed, groaning through clenched teeth as sweat poured down his face.

Rick staggered back, the spatula still smoking in his grip. “It’s done,” he rasped, his voice almost hollow. “It’s done… he’s still alive.” The spatula clattered to the ground as he let it go, the sound of metal meeting tile ringing through the room, mixing with Hershel’s groans.

Carol stayed bent over Hershel, wiping blood away with the towels she still clutched, whispering to him now, her voice soft in his ear even as his cries weakened. “It’s okay, it’s over… just breathe, just breathe…”

Glenn slumped forward, still pinning Hershel down, his face drawn with exhaustion and horror as Maggie crawled to the table, clutching her father’s hand in both of hers.

The kitchen was filled with the metallic stench of blood and burnt flesh, the sound of Hershel’s ragged breathing, and the heavy silence of a group that had just crossed another line in their fight to survive.

It looked like a slaughterhouse as Carol looked around, taking a moment to process what had happened. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the steel work surfaces, soaking into the towels on the table and dripping onto the floor, a steady plink sounding out droplets met the tile. Rick stood back and scrubbed his forehead with the back of his forearm, his hand trembling. “We gotta take him back to C block, get his leg bandaged and get him some antibiotics or somethin’.”

Glenn swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he grabbed and pushed the gore-streaked cart towards the table. “We’ll have to put him back on this. It'll be easier than carrying him the whole way.”

Rick nodded. Together, he and Glenn lifted Hershel off the table and onto the cart. The old man had finally passed out but groaned faintly at the movement, and Maggie clung to his hand, whispering to him through her tears.

Carol wrapped fresh towels around the cauterized stump, the blood on her forearms starting to dry and become stiff, her chest aching from how hard her heart was pounding. She kept her weight against the cart to steady it as Glenn and Rick started to push. “I’ll keep the pressure on while we move, just in case,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone.

The wheels squealed as the cart rolled across the tiled floor, through the cafeteria, and then bumped into the darker hallways of the tombs. Their footsteps echoed harshly against the walls and every corner felt dangerous, every shadow threatening, but they kept moving, their pace quick but careful. Maggie trailed beside her father, whispering words of encouragement through her sobs.

By the time they reached C Block, Carol’s arms were trembling from keeping steady pressure on the wound, all of her adrenaline was long gone, and her whole body weak with exhaustion. 

Rick finally pushed the cart to a halt at the bottom of the metal stairs, his eyes flicking up toward the catwalk where their cells waited. “We’ll have to carry him from here.” Carol quickly pulled the towels away, screwing them up into a ball. 

Glenn nodded, moving into position at Hershel’s feet again. Rick slid his arms under his shoulders, giving a sharp exhale as they lifted him off the cart. Hershel moaned weakly, his head lolling to the side like a newborn. “Careful, please,” Maggie begged, wiping tears from her cheeks as she hovered close, her hands shaking like she wanted to help but didn’t know how.

Carol trailed just behind them as they began the climb, her stomach twisting as she glanced down at the towels she was holding, the sound of Hershel's screams still ringing in her ears, and the sight of Rick bringing the hatchet down on his leg flashing in front of her eyes.

The metallic clang of boots on the catwalk pulled Daryl from his cell. He stepped into the open with his crossbow at his side but froze when he saw the group – Rick and Glenn struggling up the steps with Hershel between them, Maggie crying, and Carol following behind with blood smeared all over her hands and arms, clutching bloody towels.

“Carol?” His voice cracked with alarm as he jogged toward them. His eyes darted over her, taking in the crimson stains. “What the f– are you hurt?”

Carol startled at the sharpness in his tone, bursting into tears the moment she saw him and shook her head quickly. “No, it’s not mine. It’s Hershel’s. I’m okay.”

Daryl didn’t look convinced. He reached her in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders, turning her into the light as his eyes raked over her with frantic urgency. “Don’t lie to me. You bleedin’? Bit?”

“No, Daryl, I swear.” Her voice shook as she held up her blood-soaked palms. “It’s Hershel’s. Rick had to…he had to cut his leg off. He…he got bit.” A sob escaped, and she bowed her head, tears splashing onto her bloodstained hands, diluting the crimson to a coppery red. 

His gaze flicked past her to Hershel, to the blackened stump that Rick and Glenn struggled to keep elevated as they hauled him higher up the stairs. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “This is why I didn’t want you goin’,” He growled, his voice tight with frustration. She looked up at him, fear flashing across her features for just a moment before she forced her face into a neutral expression as tears still slipped freely down her cheeks.

“I need to go help them,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she sniffled quietly. Daryl’s gaze flicked past her to where Rick and Glenn were disappearing into Hershel’s cell, Maggie trailing close behind. “They’re in his cell now. Ain’t nothin’ more you can do. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She avoided his eyes, nodding silently, and turned to walk down the stairs. Her shoulders hunched, she made her way outside to the rain barrel they used for washing and laundry.

Daryl quickly grabbed a few rags and a towel from his cell before heading outside. He found her sitting on a pile of pallets next to the barrel, her posture tight, as if trying to fold herself small. The lid of the barrel was flipped open, and the bloody towels she’d been clutching lay in a heap beside her. She didn't say a word when he approached, staring down at her hands, dark red half-moons stuck under her nails.

Dipping a rag into the water, he wrung it out, the cloth dripping, and crouched in front of her, reaching for her wrist gently. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, but firm enough to start wiping the blood away.

“Sorry if I… if I scared you,” he muttered, his voice rough as he swiped the rag across the inside of her wrist, watching as the thick, dark blood diluted into streaks of pink under his touch. “Just don’t want you gettin’ hurt. Care ‘bout you, y’know.”

Carol swallowed hard, her lips trembling, as the warmth of his hand and the gentleness in his voice slowly grounded her and brought her out of the traumatised state she was in. For a moment, she let herself relax, letting the water and his steady movements wash some of the tension and panic from her body.

When he finished wiping down one arm, he grabbed a clean rag, dipped it into the water, and moved on to the other. His touch was so careful, his fingers barely pressing against her skin as he held her arm steady, that it made her chest ache – she wasn't used to such tenderness.

“Sorry for freaking out. It’s been a traumatic experience,” she murmured, her voice thin.

Daryl glanced up at her, the cloth stilling in his hand. “S’okay. Didn’t mean to upset you or nothin’. Just… panicked, I guess. Didn’t want you to go in the first place, and then all that happened.” His eyes dropped again, and he went back to slowly wiping the blood from her skin.

Carol swallowed, her throat tight. “I’m a very damaged, broken person, Daryl.” Her words came out in a whisper, but each one felt heavy. “Ed… he took things from me that I’ll never get back, never get over. He scarred me mentally and physically. Beat me, raped me and wore me down until I was a weak, terrified woman who wouldn’t dare breathe unless he said it was okay.”

She saw him flinch, his jaw tightening at her confession, and her eyes burned, but she forced the tears back.

Taking a shaky breath, she gripped her thigh with her free hand, trying to comfort herself. “I know that’s a lot. Maybe too much. You deserve someone whole, someone who isn’t… broken like me. So if you want to forget that anything happened between us, if that’s what you need, then I’ll understand.”

He froze, the rag clenched in his fist, dripping water onto the pallet between them and lifted his head, his brow furrowing in confusion and hurt.

“Don’t say that,” he muttered fiercely, causing her to blink, startled by the edge in his voice.

“You ain’t broken,” He went on, his jaw working as though he was chewing down on something hard. “He did those things to you, yeah. But that ain’t who you are. You’re still standin’ and still fightin’.” He shook his head, dropping the rag onto his knee. “Don’t need easy. Don’t want it.”

She bowed her head as her throat tightened, fresh tears spilling over before she could stop them.

Daryl shifted closer, his hand hovering uncertainly before finally settling on her knee, his touch almost cautious. “You ain’t a burden, Carol. Not to me. You hear me?” His voice cracked, just enough to let the rawness show. “Ain’t nothin’ you could tell me that’d make me walk away even though we ain't even really got started.”

She nodded slowly, slipping her hand over his where it rested on her knee. “I…I just thought you’d be better off with someone else. Someone who isn’t as…messed up as me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, but his thumb shifted, brushing lightly against her knee as if to steady her. “Ain’t just you,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. “We’re all messed up, one way or another. Some more than others. But that don’t make us less. Don’t make you less.” He squeezed her knee gently, his gaze softening. “’S what makes us who we are.”

Her breath hitched, a sob catching in her throat. She lifted her head to look at him through the sting in her eyes and her hand clutched his tighter as if afraid that he’d pull away. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before,” she murmured. For so long she’d hidden her mental and physical scars because she saw them as proof that she was ruined, but sitting there with Daryl’s hand warm beneath hers, it felt, just for a moment, like maybe she wasn’t. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3

Later that evening, the group had finished their dinner of canned stew warmed over a camping stove. It wasn’t much, but it was hot and filling, the kind of meal that at least quieted the hunger gnawing in their stomachs. For most, it was enough to bring a small measure of comfort and a rare sense of normalcy, and everyone looked ready to turn in for the night with full bellies.

Daryl was up in the watchtower on his shift, and Carol missed his presence sorely. Without him there, the common room seemed louder and yet more distant at the same time. She found herself drifting in and out of focus, missing Carl when he spoke to her, and only realizing Lori had asked for the pitcher of water when the woman’s tone turned sharper, repeating her name.

Maggie hadn’t even come out for dinner, choosing instead to stay at Hershel’s side in his cell. Carol couldn’t blame her. She was terrified to leave him, waiting to be there when he woke so she could coax him to sip water, terrified of what might happen if she wasn’t. Carol hadn’t asked for details about how he was doing. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d needed to step away when Daryl’s shift began, taking some time to herself after everything that had happened in the tombs.

Every time her thoughts drifted back to the cafeteria, the memory was so vivid it made her stomach twist. She could still see Rick’s hatchet coming down, hear the sound of metal splitting bone, and she shuddered when she remembered Hershel’s body jerking violently as blood sprayed across the table and floor. His screams were still ringing in her ears, and the images and smells wouldn’t leave her. They played again and again in her head, more vivid than any nightmare she'd ever had.

She decided that she needed to get away from the cell block and would visit Daryl to take him some of the stew that she'd put into a flask. As it was cooler at night, she went to change in her cell. She swapped her underwear and chose some soft yoga pants that felt like she was wearing pyjamas. A long-sleeved top was next before she grabbed a cardigan just in case and headed back down the stairs to where she'd left Daryl's stew. 

With the flask and her cardigan in hand, she headed out to walk over to the watchtower, her hand on her hip, ready to draw her knife at a moment's notice. 

XXXX

The prison grounds were dim and quiet, the last traces of daylight swallowed up by the thick shadows that stretched across the cracked ground. The low, restless growls of walkers echoed faintly from the fence line, but Carol hardly noticed them. Her eyes were fixed on the watchtower ahead, where a faint light glowed in the window and Daryl’s silhouette shifted as he kept his post.

Her stomach gave a nervous flutter as she drew closer, a mixture of anticipation and relief settling over her. Just knowing she’d have a little time alone with him eased the frantic churn of her thoughts, loosening the knot of tension in her shoulders.

She started up the stairs, each step ringing out with the sharp clang of her boots against metal. When she was nearly at the top, the heavy door creaked open.

“Who’s there?” Daryl’s voice cut through the quiet.

“It’s me,” she called back, raising her voice just enough for him to hear. “I brought you some dinner.”

There was a grunt in response, the kind that meant he’d already relaxed once he recognized her. She finished the climb, stepping onto the landing where he stood waiting.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said softly, a little hesitant. “I just… needed to get away from the cell block for a while.”

He shook his head and rested a hand lightly against the small of her back, guiding her inside so he could pull the door shut behind them and keep the warmth in. “Nah, don’t mind. Borin’ as fuck up here, be nice to have company for once.”

With the door closed, Carol let her eyes wander over the watchtower’s small, lived-in space. The soft glow of the lantern in the window cast warm light over the blankets and pillows piled neatly in the corner, giving the place a surprisingly cozy feel despite its stark concrete walls. Maybe I can stay up here tonight so I don’t have to be alone, she thought to herself. 

“Take a seat.” Daryl gestured to a pair of metal chairs set in front of the control panel, the lid currently pulled down to serve as a makeshift table. She eased into one and leaned forward, holding out the flask she’d brought.

“Here’s your dinner. Just stew, it was from a can,” she said, almost apologetically.

He grunted his thanks and took it from her, twisting the lid open. “Starvin’.” Without hesitation, he tipped the flask back and started eating straight from it, the sound of him slurping and chewing filling the small space. Carol found herself watching, finding the low hum of appreciation he made between mouthfuls oddly pleasing and almost attractive in their own rough and unfiltered way.

“How’s watch been so far?” she asked, settling back in the chair and draping her cardigan over her lap. Her fingers toyed absently with one of the buttons, needing something to do with her hands.

“Been alright. Nothin’ much goin’ on, so I been cleanin’ my crossbow,” he replied with a shrug, lifting the flask again. He took another mouthful of stew, chewing slowly before swallowing. His eyes shifted back to her, lingering just a little longer this time. “You doin’ okay?”

Carol hesitated, her throat tightening as the question hung between them. The truth wanted to spill out. She wanted to tell him how her mind kept replaying Hershel’s screams, the stench of burning flesh, and the feeling of his blood clinging to her skin, but she forced herself to keep her expression calm.

“I’m… managing,” she said softly, her voice steadier than she felt. She cleared her throat, glancing at him before quickly looking away. Just being there beside him, away from the noise of the others, was already calming her racing thoughts. She felt like she could breathe again. 

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, the faintest crease appearing in his brow. “That don’t sound like you’re doin’ okay,” He set the flask down on the console and leaned back in his chair, still watching her. “You sure you’re tellin’ me the truth?”

Shifting under his gaze, she fidgeted with the button on her cardigan again. Over the years, she’d fine-tuned brushing things off and pasting on a calm face when everything inside of her was falling apart, but Daryl had a way of seeing past it. 

She swallowed, lowering her gaze to her lap. “I just… don’t want to make it sound worse than it is,” she whispered. “But if you’re asking if I’m okay after everything today, then the answer is no. I keep seeing it, Daryl. Hershel screaming, the blood and the smell when Rick burned the wound shut… It’s like it’s stuck in my head on a loop. I can’t stop it.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she shook her head quickly as though ashamed for saying too much.

He twisted in his chair so he could face her. “Ain’t no shame in talkin’ ‘bout it. You went through it same as the rest of ‘em. Don’t gotta put on a brave face with me.” 

Her bottom lip trembled as she stared down at her hands, the nails faintly stained with blood she hadn’t managed to scrub away. “I don’t know why it’s getting to me like this,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten used to gore, to walkers, even to seeing people die. But watching someone’s leg get hacked off? That’s what’s bothering me? It's ridiculous.”

Daryl set the empty flask down on the floor and reached over without hesitation, his rough palm settling over the back of her hand. The weight of it was steady as his warmth bled into her skin. “Ain’t ridiculous,” he muttered. “It ain’t like watchin’ people put walkers down. It's Hershel. Someone you care about. You’re prob’ly still in shock, too. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

Her throat tightened as she turned her hand over, slipping her fingers between his. The simple act of him squeezing gently steadied her more than she expected, and she sniffled softly, a shaky smile tugging at her lips. “How do you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better?”

Shrugging, he looked down like the words embarrassed him, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Don’t know. Ain’t thinkin’ too hard on it. Jus’… say what comes out.”

She let out a shaky laugh, swiping at her damp lashes with her free hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Daryl.”

He shifted in his chair, his jaw flexing like he didn’t know what to do with the words. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and for a moment, his eyes stayed locked on their joined hands before lifting to find her muted grey eyes in the low light.

“Can… can I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his cheeks burning red as he stumbled over the words.

Her heart squeezed at the sight of him so unsure, and she gave a small nod, tugging his hand. “Come here. You don’t need to ask.”

He was out of his seat in a second, leaning down until his lips brushed hers. The kiss was soft at first, almost cautious, his breath warm against her mouth as if he was still giving her a chance to pull away. A quiet hum slipped from her throat, and she cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing along the rough line of his jaw.

He kissed her again, firmer this time, and then a third time, slower and deeper, like he was testing how far he could go. Each pass of his lips made her sink further into him, her chest tightening with want and relief all at once.

Noticing how awkward the angle was, he dropped to his knees in front of the chair, slotting himself in between her knees. The change brought him closer, his face level with hers now, and it made her grin before she tugged him back in. Their mouths met again with a little more urgency. His lips moved against hers in a steady rhythm, lingering and coaxing, parting just enough that she could feel the warm, uneven brush of his breath between each kiss.

Her arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, and he gave a faint groan against her mouth before capturing her lips once more. It was almost desperate as she parted her mouth instinctively, letting out a shaky breath when his tongue brushed tentatively against hers. She leaned into him, kissing back with the same intensity, her fingers sliding up into his hair as she tugged and angled his head to deepen it further. He groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against her mouth, and the sheer roughness of it made her stomach twist with heat.

Her lips moved against his in a quick, messy rhythm, their mouths opening and closing, teeth grazing now and then, both of them chasing more. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in through the fabric of her top as he pulled her closer to the edge of her chair.

Carol felt her pulse racing, her body shaking with nerves and need, but she didn’t stop. She shifted forward, pressing herself against him until their chests met, and the movement drew another broken sound from him, half a growl, half a moan, as his hands slid up her sides and then back down to her waist, restless and unsure where to land.

Every kiss seemed to build on the last, faster, deeper and needier, until she had to break away for air. Her lips were swollen, tingling, and she laughed softly, her nose brushing against his. 

“You good?” he asked, his voice low, his grip on her hips easing just enough to give her space if she wanted it.

She nodded, though her chest was rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath. “Are you?” she whispered, searching his face.

Instead of answering right away, his thumb brushed slowly across her bottom lip, rough skin dragging over the pillowy softness. When she instinctively closed her lips around it, sucking lightly, his breath hitched and his pupils blew wide. He swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw flexing, before giving a tight nod.

Her lips parted again, releasing his thumb, and he couldn’t hold back. He leaned in and caught her mouth in another kiss, hungrier and almost clumsy in how badly he needed it. His hands pushed up under her top, calloused palms flattening against the warm skin at the bottom of her back. The feel of her bare flesh under his fingers made him groan into her mouth, and when she let out a soft moan of her own, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip, the sound went straight through him, his cock stirring to life in his pants. 

His hands slid higher, the fingertips brushing along her spine until they grazed the band of her bra. Carol froze, a sharp breath hitching in her throat. Her whole body went taut, every nerve ending on edge as the old panic tried to creep back in, whispering warnings she didn’t want to listen to. Her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, trembling as she held on, torn between fear and want. Daryl stilled too, his touch careful and almost tentative, like he was silently reminding her she could stop him at any second. 

Her heart was hammering so fast she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear, or both tangled together in a knot she couldn’t unravel no matter how much she tried. But when he broke the kiss to press his mouth against her jaw, the pounding in her chest shifted. His lips moved lower, warm and slow as they trailed down the line of her throat. Each kiss was deliberate and lingering, his breath ghosting hot against her skin before the scratch of his stubble followed. She shivered, a soft moan slipping from her lips as his mouth found the hollow beneath her ear, his tongue barely teasing her skin before his teeth scraped gently. The sensation burned away some of the nerves, replacing them with a heated need that pooled in her belly, a steady throb starting between her legs.

Still, her hands trembled as she threaded them into his hair, holding him closer. She tilted her head back, giving him more room, surrendering to the heat of his mouth on her neck even as her pulse thudded wildly beneath her skin. Every brush of his lips, every teasing graze of his teeth made her shiver, the flickers of old fear still twitching at the edges of her mind. She bit her lower lip, half wanting to pull away, half wanting to press into him, her body betraying her hesitation with the dampness in her panties.

Daryl seemed to sense her conflict, his hands sliding from her waist to the small of her back, fingers pressing firmly as if anchoring her to him. The restraint she’d held onto was beginning to slip. Her hands gripped his shoulders harder, urging him closer as she slid off the edge of the seat and sank down onto his lap, shifting against the hard line straining beneath his pants. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips, and the sound seemed to draw him in, his hands moving higher, brushing over her back with possessive need.

His lips left her neck for just a moment, ghosting across her jaw before capturing her mouth again in a messy, hungry kiss. She flexed her thigh muscles, rocking against him, her nerves still flaring but drowned out by the fire building inside her. She gasped against his mouth, her fingers tugging at the back of his shirt as he pressed his chest against hers, the heat of him pressing into her, making her pulse pound even harder.

Her hands trembled as they slid down from his hair, fumbling at the hem of her top. It took a few frantic tugs before she finally managed to pull it up and over her head, breaking their kiss and leaving her exposed to the warm air and his hungry gaze.

His hands moved instinctively higher, resting firmly on her shoulder blades as he leaned back slightly. His lips traced the swell of her breasts, pressing and tasting her skin with his tongue, the rough scrape of his stubble over the delicate flesh sending shivers through her. A soft whimper escaped as she shifted against his straining erection, making him groan and his body react without hesitation.

When he lifted his head, his eyes caught a raised, red spiral scar on her shoulder that he hadn’t noticed in the cell. Guilt and sorrow flickered across his face as he gently brushed his thumb over it, then lowered his lips to kiss it with careful tenderness. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of the years of abuse she’d endured.

“He stabbed me with a corkscrew,” Carol whispered, her voice small and trembling. “He…actually screwed it into my skin because I’d opened the wrong bottle of wine with dinner.”

The heat and hunger that had been consuming them both dimmed, replaced by a heavy ache in the pit of their stomachs. She shivered when he kissed the scar again, not from desire, but from the weight of her own memories, and he held her tighter, lips hovering near her shoulder, letting her lean into him as the sorrow and vulnerability between them thickened the silence.

Her fingers trembled as she held onto his biceps, clinging to him like a lifeline, her heart still hammering, not just from desire, but from the raw mix of fear, trust, and need. One hand slid from her shoulder down to rest on her hip, the other brushing over her shoulder blades, drawing her in. “Okay?” he murmured against her ear, his voice rough with concern and want.

“Yeah,” she whispered, though the word came out shaky, half a lie she allowed because she didn’t want him to stop, her stomach fluttering in a chaotic mix of nerves and anticipation. Every brush of his fingers over her skin, every press of his chest against hers, made her want him, but kept her trembling. She wasn’t used to wanting someone and trusting them at the same time.

Sensing her hesitation, Daryl dipped his head again, brushing his lips over the ridge of her collarbone. She moaned softly, biting her lower lip to hold back a sound that would betray just how much it scared and excited her at the same time. Her nails dug into his skin, then released and slid up to his shoulders as though she was holding him there.

She pressed her body fully into him, grinding lightly, her whimpers growing bolder. Daryl groaned, sucking the skin over her collarbone as he let his hands roam freely, guiding her against him, their movements urgent and hungry but careful, as if neither wanted to break the fragile trust forming between them. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps, and though part of her still quivered with nerves, the other part, which was hungry and desperate for his touch, consumed the fear. 

His lips found hers again, deep and demanding, his hands cradling her back and holding her close as their hunger finally overpowered the remaining tension. She responded with equal intensity, her nerves melting into the heat of the moment.

Finding the edge of his vest, she pushed it off his shoulders, the fabric sliding down his arms before he tugged free of it. He let it fall backwards, the leather hitting the floor with a muted thud. When her hands moved to the hem of his shirt, he broke the kiss, his chest rising and falling unevenly against hers.

“Lemme do it,” his voice was rough, the words edged with nerves. His hands trembled as they closed over hers, not forcefully, but just enough to stop her. For a second, she thought he might pull away entirely, but then he gave a small shake of his head and gently pushed her hands away.

She nodded, understanding, and let them fall to her sides. Her heart ached as she watched him fumble with the first button, then the next, his fingers clumsy with hesitation. Finally, with a rough exhale, he yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it aside, sitting bare before her with tense shoulders.

For a moment, Carol just looked at him, her breath caught in her chest. Without the shirt and vest, Daryl seemed both harder and more vulnerable at once. His chest and arms were lean, muscles tight from years of work and survival, but it wasn’t the strength that drew her eyes. It was the scars. Pale lines crossed his skin in angry swirls and jagged marks, each one telling a story he’d never spoken aloud.

Her throat tightened as her gaze traced over them, lingering on the old welts across his torso, faint but unmistakable. She didn’t need to ask where they came from; she knew. The sight made her throat tighten, not out of pity, but out of recognition. He carried his pain on the outside, where hers lived mostly within, and suddenly, she felt less alone.

Slowly, she reached up, brushing her fingertips over a mark on his shoulder, then down to the raised scar at his ribs. He flinched at her touch but didn’t move away, his breath hitching as her hand spread flat over his chest.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

His eyes flicked up to hers, raw and uncertain, like he was waiting for her to recoil. But instead she leaned in, pressing her lips gently to one of the scars on his collarbone, a soft kiss that made his jaw clench and his hand curl tight at her hip.

Her lips lingered on his scar, warm and deliberate, and when she pulled back to look at him, his eyes were dark, the pupils wide with a heat he couldn’t disguise. The careful way she’d kissed him and the way she hadn’t pulled away had snapped something inside of him. “You’re beautiful.” She whispered. 

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her flush against his chest once again, his bare skin burning against hers. He kissed her hard, in a desperate, rushed way, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a groan that vibrated through her. The sudden shift made her gasp, but instead of shying away, she pressed closer.

Her heart still pounded, nerves sparking here and there, but the hunger was stronger. It rolled through her in waves, drowning out the fear, urging her to move with him. She shifted on his lap, the friction against his cock making him jolt and bite back a curse into her mouth. His hands roamed higher, splaying across her back before sliding around to cup her sides, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the swell of her breasts. Carol whimpered, the sound muffled between their mouths, and Daryl growled low in his throat, kissing her like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d never stop unless she told him to.

Her breath caught when his hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging in as though he couldn’t hold back anymore. His mouth trailed hot, open kisses along her jaw and back to her lips, claiming them again in a kiss that left her dizzy.

Without warning, he stood, his strength effortless as he lifted her from his lap. She squeaked, clutching at his shoulders, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for balance. He carried her the few steps to the control panel, setting her down on the closed lid with a soft thud, his hips pressing forward between her knees before she had a chance to catch her breath.

The cool metal biting through her yoga pants contrasted with the heat radiating off his body, making her shiver as she tilted her head back, his mouth immediately finding her throat again. Her hands threaded into his hair, tugging as she arched into him, the edge of the panel digging into the back of her thighs.

“Daryl…” Her voice broke on his name, half a plea, half a warning, but it only seemed to spur him on. His palms slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the cups of her bra, the touch light but enough to make her whole body tremble. He groaned against her neck, the sound rough and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips as she rolled her hips against him.

His hands shifted to just beneath the band of her bra, and the hesitation in his touch made her pulse race even harder.

Swallowing back her nerves, Carol reached behind her, fumbling with the clasp. Her fingers trembled, snagging once before she managed to undo it. The straps slid down her shoulders, and she pulled the bra away, letting it fall beside her on the control panel.

Daryl’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as they swept over her bare chest, the pale skin almost luminescent in the light from the lantern, her nipples a rosy pink that was close to the colour of her lips. His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but instead he reached out with both hands, cradling her sides as though she might break if he wasn’t careful. “God…” he rasped, his voice rough with awe and want.

Before she could shrink away from the vulnerability of the moment, he leaned in, his mouth brushing across the swell of one breast, his breath fanning over her skin. She shivered, her fingers flexing on his shoulders, a mixture of tenderness and hunger that had her body tightening with need.

Carol gasped softly as his lips trailed lower, his stubble scraping against her sensitive skin. When his mouth closed around her nipple, the sharp pull of his tongue and teeth sent a jolt of pleasure down her spine.

“Daryl…” she breathed, her nails digging into his flesh as his hand tightened on her waist. He groaned in response, the sound muffled against her breast as he sucked harder, rolling the other nipple between his calloused fingers. Her breath came out in uneven whimpers, each touch sparking through her like fire.

Her thighs parted wider on the control panel, letting him step closer, slotting himself firmly between her legs. The pressure of his cock against her made her shudder, the rough fabric of his jeans dragging against her clit through the thin cotton of her yoga pants. She rolled her hips down harder, chasing the friction, her head tipping back as a breathless moan spilled free.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back just long enough to drag his mouth across her chest and take her other nipple between his lips. His tongue flicked fast, teasing, before he sucked deep, his hips jerking against hers. She could feel how desperate he was through the layers between them, his arousal hot and hard, and the knowledge that she was the one making him lose control sent another rush of heat through her.

Her hands tangled in his hair once again, tugging so hard it almost hurt. Every nerve in her body felt alive, tingling, straining for more of his mouth, his hands, his weight pressing her down. Her hips rolled down against him again, desperate for more of the friction, and his grip on her waist tightened. He pulled back just enough to look at her face, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

“Carol…” he rasped, almost like a warning, but his body betrayed him, pushing closer and grinding against her in sharp little jerks.

Whimpering, she clutched his arms, her grip so tight she heard him hiss. “Please… I need you to…” Her voice broke, the words barely a whisper.

His hand slid down from her waist, moving between their bodies until his palm pressed against the heat between her thighs. Even through the material of her pants, he could feel the dampness there, her body already begging for him. He groaned, the sound rough and needy.

Her back arched, pressing herself harder into his hand, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh, God…” she gasped, her thighs trembling against his hips.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he muttered, rubbing the heel of his hand against her, the fabric dragging over her clit with every slow circle. He felt her shudder, her hands scrambling down his back to hold on as the tension coiled tight inside her.

She buried her face in his neck, whimpering against his skin as he worked her over through the thin barrier of cloth. Every nerve in her body screamed for more, and yet there was something almost unbearable about the way he held back, touching her like she was breakable even as his own breath came fast and rough against her ear.

Her nails dug into his flesh, her body rocking against his hand as she sought more stimulation. The friction through the thin cotton was driving her crazy, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. “Please…” 

His jaw clenched, and for a moment he hesitated, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot and uneven. Then he slid his hand past the waistband of her pants and beneath the thin cotton of her panties.

“Christ,” he breathed out, his voice ragged. She was slick and hot under his touch, and the sheer need he felt made his chest ache.

Carol’s breath came out in a whine as her thighs clamped around his hips. Her entire body jolted at the first slow stroke of his fingers through her labia, the contact almost unbearable after the teasing drag of fabric. “Oh – Daryl…”

He groaned at the sound of her moaning his name, his thumb brushing over her clit before circling it gently, watching the way her lips parted and her breath stuttered. “That feel good?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded frantically, moving her hands to his chest, her fingers splayed over his skin. “Y-yes… don’t stop.”

His thumb slid lower, dipping just inside her entrance before dragging back up, coating her clit in her own slickness before pressing harder. She cried out, muffling the sound against his mouth as he kissed her again, swallowing every broken moan while he circled her clit relentlessly.

He shifted his hand, and the sudden change made her whimper, the pleasure fading into something frustrating. Her hand shot down, gripping his wrist firmly as she guided him back to where she needed him. “There…keep it there,” she gasped, her voice rough with need.

Her forehead pressed against his, her breath hot and uneven, sweat gathering at her hairline. “Please,” she whispered, clinging to him.

Daryl froze, breath ragged, his face flushing red. “Shit – sorry. I… I dunno what I’m doin’,” he muttered, the words choked with embarrassment.

Cupping his cheek with her free hand, she forced him to look at her. “You’re doing everything right,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes glistening. “Don’t stop.”

Her words sank in, shoving aside his hesitation, and the heat came rushing back. Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he focused on her reactions – her breath stuttering, her hips bucking against his hand and the soft, broken sounds spilling from her lips.

“Yeah?” he rasped, needing to hear it again, his thumb circling delicately over her in slow, fluttering strokes.

“God, yes,” she moaned, leaning back on the control panel, her abdominal muscles flexing as she panted. He leaned forward and kissed her hard, messy and desperate, swallowing her whimpers as his hand worked between them with more confidence. Her thighs squeezed around his hips, pulling him closer, and the control panel beneath her rattled as she shifted restlessly.

“More…” she begged, her nipples dragging over his skin as she squirmed. He obeyed instantly, sliding one finger inside her, feeling her walls clench tight around him. The sensation nearly undid him, and his hips jerked forward, rutting against her thigh as if he couldn’t control it.

Her breath broke into a sharp cry, her hips shifting at the intrusion. “Daryl – please…”

He gave her what she asked for, curling his finger deep inside her while his thumb rubbed quick, needy circles against her clit. Her whole body arched off the panel, pressing into him, chasing every ounce of friction he gave. When he slid in a second finger, the stretch made her gasp, her cry muffled as his mouth crashed back onto hers. She clutched at his shoulders, every movement dragging her closer. His fingers felt so much thicker and rougher than her own ever had, filling her in a way that left her trembling and aching for more. The kiss was wet and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling, both of them desperate. Her heartbeat hammered so hard against his chest he couldn’t tell if it was hers or his own.

When she tore her mouth from his, gasping as her walls fluttered around the thick press of his fingers, his whole body tightened with pride and need, his forehead pressed to hers as he urged her on. “Let go for me. Wanna feel it. C’mon, Carol.”

Her thighs quivered, the muscles locking tight as if her body couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go. Daryl nudged her head back with his nose, his mouth hot and insistent at her pulse point, sucking hard enough to make her whimper. His fingers curled deep inside her, hitting a spot that knocked the air right out of her chest. She gasped once, sharp and desperate, and then went silent, her breath trapped as her vision went hazy, black creeping in at the edges.

The pressure built until it snapped, and she felt herself clench hard around his fingers, pulsing in frantic waves she couldn’t control. A strangled moan tore free as the orgasm ripped through her, hot and overwhelming, shaking her to her core. She dimly registered his ragged breath against her neck and the way he almost sagged with relief, like he’d been afraid he’d pushed her too far.

But she wasn’t hurt. She was undone, floating weightlessly. Every nerve in her body burned and sparked as she slumped against him, still shuddering, still clenching weakly around his fingers as the aftershocks rolled through her. She pressed her forehead against his, trying to breathe, trying to steady herself when her heart was still hammering out of control.

Daryl froze for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what to do, his hand caught between them. Slowly and carefully, he eased his fingers free, his touch hesitant now, almost shy, as if afraid to touch her in a way that wasn’t welcome. He pulled his hand back and rested it against her hip, his damp thumb stroking lightly over her skin.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, but it carried more worry than anything else.

Carol nodded, though her throat was tight and her voice barely worked. “I’m… I’m good. Better than good.” She gave him a shaky smile, her hairline and chest damp with sweat as her body hummed. “You didn’t hurt me. You could never…”

His jaw flexed, like he wanted to argue, but her hand came up to cup his cheek, silencing him. He leaned into her palm, his eyes softer than she’d ever seen them.

“Didn’t know if I was doin’ it right,” he admitted, so quiet she almost didn’t catch it. “Ain’t never done it before…”

“You were,” she whispered back, her voice thick with certainty. “God, Daryl… you were perfect.”

Chapter Text

He nodded and leaned in, kissing her softly, his tongue brushing tentatively against her lips until she parted them. She sighed into his mouth, meeting him with her own tongue, the kiss deepening as her hands slid down between them, fumbling blindly with the buckle of his belt.

The second he felt it, he stiffened. Pulling back just slightly, his voice came out rough and rushed. “We… we ain’t gotta do that.”

She froze, her hands falling away at once. “I want to,” she said quickly, her eyes darting down to the obvious bulge still pressing hard against his pants zipper. “Do you not want to?” Her chest hurt, the sting of rejection sharp. Her mind began to spiral, dragging her back to every time Ed had punished her for reacting the wrong way during sex, for not being what he wanted. Feeling her throat tighten, she swallowed to try and get rid of the sensation. “Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl’s expression softened immediately. “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he reached for her hands. His rough palms enveloped hers, thumbs stroking gently over her wrists in a soothing rhythm. “Ain’t nothin’ you did. Jus’… don’ wanna push you too far, s’all.”

Carol held his gaze, her breath unsteady but her voice unwavering. “You’re not pushing me. I know what I want, Daryl. I want you.” She squeezed his hands, grounding herself in his warmth and the safety of his touch.

He searched her face, his eyes flicking between hers like he was trying to read her, to be sure. “You sure?” he asked, his voice uncertain, but his thumbs never stopped stroking her wrist.

Nodding, she leaned closer. “I’m sure. If I wasn’t, I would tell you. I need you to trust me on that.” Her lips ghosted over his as she whispered, “Please.”

Her words seemed to change something, his chest rising and falling faster, his restraint teetering on the edge. His hand slid from her wrist up her arm, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Ain’t easy for me,” he admitted gruffly, “Ain’t…ain’t done it for a long time, don' even remember the last time ‘cause I was drunk, but… I want you too. Wanna do this, with you.”

She kissed him then, pouring reassurance and hunger into it, her fingers moving back to his belt buckle. She ensured to keep her movements slow, giving him every chance to stop her. When she finally worked the leather free, the metallic clink of the buckle made his breath catch, but instead of pulling away, he reached down and stilled her hands with his.

“Wait,” he muttered. For a second, her stomach dropped, afraid he had changed his mind, but then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants. “Ain’t fair if it’s just me.”

Heat flared in her cheeks as she laughed softly, lifting her hips obediently. He tugged her pants down, slow at first like he half-expected her to tell him to stop, but when she wriggled to help, they slipped down her thighs. He crouched, working the fabric down to her boots, his rough fingers brushing her skin.

Then, without looking up, he reached for the first boot and tugged at the laces, muttering under his breath when they snagged. Finally, he pulled it off and set it aside, then repeated the motion with the other. She watched him in silence, her chest tight, her throat dry, overwhelmed by the tenderness in such a simple act.

Only once both boots were set neatly to the side did he drag the pants the rest of the way down her legs, leaving her in nothing but the thin scrap of cotton between them. He paused at the waistband of her panties, his eyes flicking up to hers like he was asking permission without words.

She swallowed, her pulse hammering in her ears, and gave him the faintest smile. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice slightly unsteady. The idea of removing the last barrier made her nerves spike, her heart beating so fast that she thought it would burst out of her chest. But she needed to do it. To let him see all of her and to expose all of her to him. She needed it to get rid of the last traces of Ed.

That was all he needed. He peeled the thin fabric down, exposing her to the air of the tower, and she sucked in a breath, her thighs trembling from the vulnerability of it. But then his hands, so warm and careful, slid back up her legs, steadying her.

Daryl exhaled sharply, his chest tight as he stood between her knees again, his palms settling on her thighs, brushing his thumbs over the sensitive skin. “You’re… beautiful,” he rasped, the word awkward on his tongue but so raw she nearly cried from the weight of it.

Her hands went to his waistband, tugging lightly. “Your turn,” she murmured, her eyes flicking to his belt again, her confidence beginning to burn hotter than the nerves.

She slid her hands up his sides, fingers skimming the hard lines of his torso, then back down to settle on his hips. Her fingers shook slightly when she noticed his button and zipper straining slightly against the bulge beneath.

Her eyes flicked up to his, watching carefully for hesitation, but all she saw was raw want barely kept in check. Slowly, she worked the button free, tugging the zipper down inch by inch. The sound of it filled the space between them, louder than it should have been, making her pulse hammer even harder in her ears.

Sliding her hands beneath the waistband, she pushed the denim down. His breathing picked up, his body going taut, but he didn’t stop her. She took her time, guiding the pants lower, her knuckles brushing the skin of his thighs until they pooled around his knees. The dark cotton of his underwear still clung to him, the thick outline of his cock pressing insistently against the fabric.

Her hands lingered there, tracing his skin with her fingers with the lightest touch. His chest was rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts as her knuckles brushed against his belly.

“Carol…” His voice cracked with the strain, his hips jerking forward almost without his permission.

She gave him a small, steady smile, then hooked her thumbs into the elastic. He grunted, relief and urgency mingling as she pushed his boxers down. He didn’t even wait for her to push them down as far as his pants and stepped forward, letting them fall clumsily around his thighs, too desperate to care about neatness.

The sight of him bare made her stomach clench, nerves sparking along her spine at how exposed and real the moment was. His cock stood thick and heavy between them, the flushed head slick with precum that glistened in the dim light. It bobbed slightly when he moved, a reminder of just how badly he wanted her. For a moment, her nerves whispered doubts, but then she looked at his face and found flushed cheeks and hungry eyes dark with need that mirrored her own. 

Her breath caught when his mouth crashed back onto hers, the kiss messy, all heat, tongue and desperation. His hands locked onto the backs of her thighs, dragging her closer until her bare thighs brushed the sharp bones of his hips. She felt him then, hot and hard against her belly, smearing precum over her skin as he bucked forward instinctively, seeking her heat.

When the blunt head slipped against her, she gasped into his mouth, breaking the kiss with a soft moan. “Daryl…” Her voice trembled, a plea wrapped in warning.

He buried his face against her throat, panting hard, his breath scorching her skin. His stubble scraped rough against her neck as he dragged himself through her labia, slow and deliberate. The head of his cock slid over her clit, slick with her arousal, making her shiver at the lewd sound of it. 

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice frayed at the edges, as though holding himself back took everything he had. His hips rolled again, the tip catching her clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her. She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him, the teasing lighting up every nerve ending in her body.

Her heart hammered, the nerves suddenly crawling back in around the edges of the heat. Every brush of him against her left her strung tight, hovering on the precipice of raw hunger and old fear. He shifted again, fisting his cock as he nudged himself at her entrance, not pushing in, just resting there. The pressure made her whimper, her body desperate for more.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped against her skin, his whole body trembling with restraint. His cock throbbed against her, leaking more precum onto her flesh.

“It’s not,” she whispered fiercely, pushing past the nerves, clutching him tighter as her thighs shook around his hips. “I want this. I want you.”

Slowly, carefully, he pressed forward, the thick head slipping inside. She gasped, her walls clenching tight around him as it burned, and he froze, panting hard into her neck. “Easy… tell me if I’m hurtin’ you,” He muttered, his lips brushing her skin as he found her pulse point before sucking softly.

For a moment, she wasn’t there with him. Violent memories flashed through her mind - Ed’s teeth sinking into her neck and thighs, the burn of a cigarette searing the skin on her lower belly in the aftermath and her own muffled cries of pain swallowed in the dark while she lay frozen and powerless. Her body went rigid, the edges of her vision starting to darken as panic began to settle in.

Then Daryl’s hand slid up her thigh, his thumb stroking over the skin in a way that was so careful, so unhurried, that it snapped her out of the spiral. His mouth moved again, but softer, a tender suck paired with the rasp of his stubble against her skin. The contrast was undeniable. What was happening was not pain or him taking control; it was him asking for open communication and being concerned for her well-being. 

She could breathe easier as the fear dissolved into a trembling whimper, her focus shifting back to the heat of his body pressed to hers, the fullness of him inside her, and his lips fluttering over her skin. The memories blurred, then fell away, replaced by the swell of pleasure that rose to take place.

Shaking her head, her lips parted as she made a desperate noise in the back of her throat. “No…don’t stop. Just…slow…” Her hands slid down his slick back, gripping the hard muscle beneath his skin as he pushed deeper and stretched her open, inch by inch. The burn got worse for a moment, and she whimpered, but then it gave way to a heady feeling of fullness. 

He held still, his chest flush against hers, sweat damp between them. His cock pulsed as he let her adjust and then, as she tilted her hips slightly, he bumped against her cervix, her body sucking him even deeper, and the sound she made – a broken moan of relief, made his control snap.

He began to thrust in slow, almost torturous increments, his hands gripping her thighs as he guided her. She wound her arms around his neck, dragging him closer until there was no space left between them. Each measured thrust sent a mix of burn and pleasure coursing through her, the exquisite friction making her shiver and arch helplessly against him.

She could hear his little grunts and the whine of his exhalations through his nose, echoing in her ears, along with the faint squelch as he thrust, highlighting just how wet she was. Every careful, deliberate push inside her drove a shudder through her, and she let out soft, breathy moans that urged him to keep going.

Daryl groaned against her ear, his hips pressing a little harder, his movements still patient but hungry, drawing out every second of contact. “Feel…so good,” he muttered, letting his forehead rest against hers as he stayed still for a moment, letting her feel him fully.

She let out a strangled moan as she trembled, her body taut with need, and whispered, “Please…don’t stop…”

Beginning to thrust again, his rhythm stayed unhurried, every push inside her deliberate, as if he wanted her to feel each inch of him. The slow drag of his cock made her breath hitch, her body tightening and fluttering around him. His head dropped to her shoulder again, his breath warm and uneven, and she could hear the quiet groans he tried to swallow back. She could feel the shake of the muscles in his body as he held back from thrusting into her in a frenzy, desperate to chase his release. 

Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close, grounding herself in the way his weight pressed her into the panel. Every movement was patient, coaxing more need from her, drawing soft gasps and moans from her lips that seemed to spur him on. When his thumb brushed her thigh in an absent, almost tender stroke, the sweetness of it tangled with the coiling tension low in her belly, spreading through her pelvis and creeping into her lower back, making her chest ache.

The steady pace stretched out the pleasure until it hummed through every nerve in her body, the hunger building unbearably slowly. Every careful push had her breath coming in short, desperate bursts, and her nails scraped lightly against his scalp as she felt him shift and the angle change.

The words she wanted to say caught in her throat, but the pressure in her chest demanded release. When he pulled out until only the tip remained and pushed back in so slowly that she could barely tell he was moving, her thighs tightened around his hips. “Daryl… I need more.”

His movements stalled just long enough for his head to lift and his gaze to lock with hers, searching and making sure. When she nodded quickly, his jaw tightened, and a grunt escaped him as he watched the sweat on her chest gleam in the dim light. 

“You sure?” he rasped.

“Yes,” her voice was trembling but sure. “Please… don’t hold back.”

The next breath he took shuddered out of him, as if he were barely holding himself together. He slid his hands up her thighs, rough palms moving to grip her ass, and with a low grunt he lifted, tilting her just enough that his next thrust went deeper.

Carol gasped, the sudden shift making her dizzy. Her head tipped back as she murmured his name with a broken moan.

“Goddamn…” he groaned, his voice ragged, as his fingers bit into her flesh. She closed her eyes as everything else but the feel of him inside her and his hands on her ass faded away into the background. 

All she could feel was sensation – his cock driving deeper at the new angle as he thrust faster than he had before, the stretch sharper and more insistent. Heat flared low in her belly, spreading outward in waves that made her toes curl.

The pressure built faster than she could brace for, curling hot and heavy inside her, nothing like the painful experiences Ed had forced on her. It was deeper and unstoppable, a tension that rose from the place where he filled her and climbed up through her spine until her whole body shook.

Her nails dragged down his back, leaving red trails in their wake as panic sparked in her chest. Oh God, this has never happened before… She clung onto him, her fingers digging into the muscles even as her mind scrambled for control. She had never been taken here before, not during sex. The surge of pleasure felt almost unbearable, and for a moment, she wanted to push him away, to stop it before it swallowed her whole.

But then his mouth was on her neck again, kissing and sucking her flesh, grounding her with every rasp of stubble against her skin. His voice was a low growl against her throat, rough and honest.

“Never… never felt nothin’ like this,” he breathed, thrusting deep, the weight of his words tethering her to him.

Her chest squeezed tight, but there was no fear; it was a feeling of need, raw and undeniable. Her moan broke into a desperate whimper as the wave inside her crested higher, threatening to pull her under. Her walls clenched hard around him, her body trembling as if it was fighting against itself. “Daryl…” she gasped, almost panicked, her voice cracking.

He stilled for a second. “You okay?” His breath was ragged, his eyes searching her face when he looked at her.

Her answer came out as a broken moan. “Yes…oh God.”

Capturing her lips with his in a messy kiss, he pushed in harder, his hips grinding against her as he squeezed her ass, his fingers digging into the ample flesh. The careful mix of rough and gentle shattered what little control she had left.

The tension snapped, pleasure tearing through her in a way she had never felt before. It was not the sharp, surface release she was used to; it was deep and full-bodied, curling through every nerve until all she could hear was a ringing in her ears. Her thighs shook violently around his hips, her nails clawing at his back as she pulled away from the kiss and a strangled cry tore from her throat.

“Fuck – Carol…” Daryl groaned, his voice breaking as he felt her clench and flutter around him, the wet heat of her walls squeezing tight and pulling him in deeper. He pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her up when her body buckled against him.

She sobbed his name, not from pain but from the overwhelming force of it, clinging to him like she might shatter if he let go. Pleasure pulsed through her, stealing her breath until she was sure she could not take any more.

When it finally began to ebb, she slumped against him, boneless, her chest heaving as sweat cooled on her skin. Her mind, for once, was silent; there were no ghosts or memories, just the echo of her body’s raw surrender and the steady thrum of his heart against hers. 

Her orgasm nearly undid him. The way she pulsed around him, milking him deeper with every trembling spasm, had his rhythm faltering. He tried to keep it steady, tried to hold on, but his control snapped.

“Jesus Christ…” he rasped, as his hips jerked harder, the need for release overtaking restraint. His breath came hot and ragged as he dipped his head, teeth grazing her shoulder, dragging her flush against him with every thrust.

The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the small space, her slick heat clenching him so tight he thought he might lose his mind. Her nails scraped down his back again as she moaned weakly, overstimulated and he let out a strangled groan, his thrusts becoming messy, uneven, driven only by raw hunger.

“Carol… can’t– fuck– ” His voice cracked as he pressed deeper, grinding hard enough to make her jerk and whimper. He lifted his head just long enough to look at her, eyes dark and wild, before his forehead dropped back against hers. “Gonna come…”

Her lips brushed his, whispering, “It's okay,” and that was all it took. His whole body tensed, and he slammed his hips forward once, twice, before burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a guttural groan.

His cock throbbed deep inside her, each hot pulse dragging a shiver through him until his strength gave out and he sagged against her. His grip on her ass loosened slowly, his palms sliding over damp skin before settling at the small of her back. He was breathing harshly, his chest heaving against hers as she stroked the back of his neck in slow, soothing movements, the air thick with the musk of sweat and sex.

He shifted, sliding his hands higher along her spine as if to anchor her to him, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. A soft kiss pressed to her forehead lingered before he dropped his chin to rest on the crown of her head, still trembling with aftershocks. “You okay?” he rasped, voice raw from strain.

Turning her face into his throat, she let her cheek rest against the warm, sweat-slicked skin there, her own breathing shallow and unsteady as she tried to steady herself. “Yeah,” she whispered, though her voice wavered. “I’m okay. Are you?” Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them, spilling over as she let out a small, shaky sniffle.

His cock was still buried inside her, the last twitch of his release ebbing as he held her tight, their bodies stuck together with sweat. Her chest rose and fell against his, her breath stuttering as the sobs caught in her throat. The tears began to slip out faster, soaking into his skin where her face was pressed to his neck.

Daryl stiffened for a second when he felt the hot tears against his skin, then his arms banded around her, one hand smoothing up her spine, the other cupping the back of her head. “Hey… hey,” he murmured against her hair, the sound rough and unsteady, like he was trying to soothe her but needed soothing himself. His lips brushed the crown of her head in soft, almost frantic kisses, as if he could erase every tear that way.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words breaking apart with another shaky breath. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” Her voice was raw, muffled against his throat, but she did not try to pull away. She clung to him, shaking as the intensity of everything – the fear, the pleasure and the release spilled over in hot streaks down her face.

“You ain’t gotta be sorry.” His voice cracked on the words, and his chin dipped so his stubble scraped her temple. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with cryin’.”

Her heart twisted at that, and the rawness of his tone cut through her, making her cling onto him even tighter. She felt him still hard inside her, though beginning to soften, the weight of him a constant reminder that it was real, not a memory or a nightmare. Just him. 

When she finally pulled back enough to see him, her cheeks wet and blotchy, his face was right there – flushed, sweat dripping down his temples, eyes shining like he had never been more exposed. His thumb came up to swipe clumsily at a tear, the rough pad catching on her damp skin.

“You okay, really? I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, almost pleading.

Her lips trembled, but she nodded, managing a watery smile. “Yeah. More than okay. You didn’t hurt me.” She touched his face, her fingers trembling as they brushed his jaw, the intimacy of it making her chest ache. “That’s… that’s never happened before. Not during sex.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and instantly her cheeks burned. Her stomach twisted with embarrassment, like she had admitted to something shameful, something broken about herself. She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes, her face hot with a flush that spread down her neck.

Daryl tightened his arm around her. For a second, she thought maybe she had said the wrong thing, but then his breath hitched, and when she finally risked a glance at him, his ears were red, his expression caught somewhere between shy and stunned.

“You mean… I did that?” His voice was almost disbelieving. When she nodded, still flushed beet-red, the corner of his mouth twitched up, the faintest, proudest smile tugging at his lips even as he tried to keep it down. He ducked his head too, like he could not quite look at her while admitting it.

“Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Didn’ even… I mean – hell.” His voice trailed off, but she could feel the pride humming under his skin, in the way his chest pressed firmer against hers, like he could not quite believe he’d been the one to give her that.

He swallowed, glancing at her through his lashes before looking away again. “So… that means it was… good?”

The question was so hesitant, so boyish in its shyness, that it tugged at her chest. Her lips parted in surprise, and then she gave a shaky laugh, tears pricking at her eyes again. “Good?” she echoed, pressing her forehead to his. “Daryl, it was… incredible. I didn’t even know that was possible for me.” “Was incredible for me too,” he murmured, kissing her softly before shifting his hips back, pulling out of her. Carol almost whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her thighs trembling, but before she could move, his hand pressed gently between her legs, cupping to keep his cum from spilling out. The unexpected brush of his fingers against her swollen flesh made her shiver.

“Shit,” he muttered suddenly, his whole body going tight. He froze, eyes darting up to hers, his face paling under the flush of worry. “Fuck – Carol, we didn’… I didn’ use nothin’.” The words came out rushed, almost panicked, his breath catching like he was not sure what to do.

Her hand reached up, brushing over his damp temple, and she shook her head softly. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I can’t get pregnant.”

He blinked at her, relief and something else flickering in his eyes, though he still looked guilty for not thinking. “You sure?” His voice was strained, and she could see the panic in his eyes.

“I’m sure,” she said firmly, a brief flash of pain appearing on her face before she quickly changed her expression. The faintest smile curved her lips. “You don’t have to worry.”

He swallowed hard, nodding once, his shoulders sagging as the tension left him. “Alright,” he murmured.

With a gruff little huff, almost defensive, he tugged his boxers and pants back up with his free hand, leaving them loose and hanging low on his hips. He dug into a pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of fabric. “It’s clean,” he added quickly, his ears pink. She nodded, reaching for it, but he shook his head. “Lemme.”

Her breath was unsteady when he gently moved his hand aside and brought the cloth to her, swiping carefully between her thighs. The touch was soft and though her body still twitched with aftershocks, she let him take care of her, warmth spreading through her chest at the tenderness in the gesture.

Once he had finished cleaning her up, Daryl reached for her panties, bunching the fabric in his hands before sliding them slowly up her legs. She steadied herself by holding onto his shoulders, lifting her hips just enough for him to ease them into place. The intimacy of the simple act made her cheeks warm, and she kissed the top of his head where it was bent as he focused on what he was doing. 

He grabbed his shirt from the floor next, shaking it out before undoing the buttons. Holding it out, he met her eyes. “Wanna wear this? Can lie down for a bit.”

Her heart skipped at the offer, and she nodded eagerly, letting him slip the shirt over her arms. His rough fingertips grazed her sides as he worked the fabric over her shoulders, and she giggled softly when they brushed against her ribs as he fastened a couple of buttons.

“Don’t you need to get back to keeping watch?” she asked as she slid carefully off the control panel. Her knees wobbled beneath her, and she gripped the edge for balance. His hands shot out, steadying her at the waist and holding her until she found her footing.

“Nah,” he said with a quick shake of his head, his grip lingering. “Quiet out there. Nothin’ happenin’.”

With his hands still firm at her waist, he guided her toward the corner of the tower where the pile of blankets and pillows waited. She followed without hesitation, the oversized shirt hanging loose on her frame, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. The lantern’s glow made the space look warmer than it had any right to, shadows flickering softly against the walls.

He dropped down first, sitting back against the nest of blankets, then stretched an arm out in silent invitation. Carol slipped into his side, curling against him as naturally as if she had done it a hundred times before. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close until her cheek rested on his bare chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding her.

For a moment, they did not speak, just breathed together in the quiet. The scent of him – sweat, leather, and faint woodsmoke, was everywhere, comforting in its rough simplicity. She tugged his shirt tighter around herself, the fabric soft against her skin, and let out a small, content sigh.

Daryl tilted his head, brushing his lips against the top of her hair. “This okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

Carol nodded against him, her hand sliding over his stomach to rest against his side. “More than okay,” she whispered. “You warm enough?” 

She laughed under her breath and shifted so she could look up at him, amusement flickering in her tired eyes. “I’m fine, Daryl. Shut up and kiss me.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he did not make her wait. He dipped his head, brushing his lips over hers with a deliberate slowness that made her stomach flutter. His hand came up to cradle her cheek, his thumb dragging gently across her skin. Then, he threaded his fingers into her hair, coaxing her into a deeper kiss, his mouth warm and insistent against hers.

His lips lingered against hers, moving slowly, nothing like the desperate heat from earlier and every brush of his mouth made her want to weep from the tenderness. When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone before settling at the edge of her jaw.

Tucking herself against his chest, she sighed and rested her hand over his heart beneath her cheek, feeling the steady thud beneath her palm. He wrapped both arms around her, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades, the other smoothing down her back in a slow, absent rhythm. The rise and fall of his breathing began to lull her, the warmth of his body next to hers providing the most comfort she’d felt for a long time.

“You get some rest,” he murmured against the top of her head, his lips brushing her hair. “I got you.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, her body melting into his. The faint sound of his voice was the last thing she registered before sleep pulled her under.

Chapter Text

Daryl stayed still for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest and every few seconds, his thumb traced lazy circles over her shoulder without him even realizing it. He should have been keeping watch, but he could not bring himself to move away from her. Not when she looked so damn peaceful – something he was unsure he had ever seen on her face before.

His gaze lingered on the curve of her cheek, the way her lips parted slightly with each slow breath and the paleness of her skin in the dim light, freckles scattered over it in an erratic pattern. Then, a thought came to him sudden and sharp, cutting through everything else: I’m in love with her. He almost flinched at the thought, like it was something too big or dangerous to even name. But he could not shake it. It was not just want or the raw hunger still buzzing under his skin that having sex with her had awakened. It was deeper and heavier, an emotion he was not entirely sure that he understood. He felt panic creeping in because the idea of love scared the hell out of him. His daddy used to tell him he loved him but then beat him until he could not walk properly for a week. So, all he knew to associate with love was pain. But, watching Carol, asleep and safe in his arms, he knew he would do anything to keep her that way, and he would kill anyone who got in his way.

When her breathing deepened and he was sure she was in a deep sleep, he carefully shifted, sliding out from under her without waking her. He grabbed his vest from where it lay crumpled on the floor and slipped it on before covering her with a blanket and for a moment, he just crouched there, still watching her sleep.

XXXX

An hour slipped by before Carol stirred softly, blinking against the dim light. The space beside her was warm but empty, and when she turned her head, she saw him sitting a few feet away. His crossbow lay across his lap, a cloth in one hand as he methodically wiped it down. His vest was on again, though it hung open, and his pants were not fully fastened, the button undone like he had not wanted to close that last piece of distance between what they had shared and the quiet moments after.

She watched him for a moment, her chest squeezing with a tenderness that almost hurt. He glanced up as though sensing she was awake and caught her eyes. For a second, he looked almost guilty for some unknown reason, but then his mouth twitched into the faintest, shyest smile.

“You sleep okay?” he asked quietly, his voice rough as he set his crossbow and the cloth aside. 

“I slept great. This is surprisingly comfy,” Carol said as she pushed herself up, her voice still husky from sleep. She stretched her arms high over her head, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight across her chest until the peaks of her nipples pressed against it. His pulse jumped, and he shifted uncomfortably when he felt his cock stir at the sight.

Blissfully unaware of his inner battle, she slid off the makeshift bed and padded toward him, her steps unhurried. He was mesmerised by every movement - the lazy sway of her hips, the mess of her hair still tangled from his hands and sleep and the long line of her bare legs catching in the low light. How he had managed to bag a woman as fine as her, he would never know. 

When she reached him, she bent over, and the loose collar of his shirt gaped open. He caught a clear view straight down the front, her breasts spilling forward with the movement. His throat tightened, and a strangled sound escaped him as his hands clamped down on the arms of the chair, the urge to haul her onto his lap almost overwhelming.

But Carol only leaned in, brushing her lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss that left him even more wound up. Then she shifted gracefully onto his lap, sitting sideways, one arm draped over his shoulder, her other hand splayed against his chest. The warmth of her body pressed close, and all he could do was breathe her in, his heart pounding.

Daryl sat stiff beneath her, trying not to react to the heat of her thighs resting across his lap. She tilted her head, her lips quirking into a knowing smile.

“Why are you so tense?” she teased, her fingers tracing absent circles on his skin.

He grunted, looking away, but the red climbing up his neck gave him away. “Ain’t nothin’.”

Her laugh was soft, warm, and wickedly amused. “Mm-hm. Could’ve fooled me.” She shifted just enough that the curve of her ass brushed against his cock, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Carol…” His voice was rough and ended on a soft groan.

“What?” she asked innocently, though her eyes glinted as she trailed her fingers up his collarbone to the side of his neck. “I’m just sitting here.” “Yeah, right.” His grip tightened on the arms of the chair again, like he was holding himself back from grabbing her and proving exactly how not-innocent she was being.

She leaned in, her lips almost grazing his ear, her breath hot enough to make him shiver. “I’d love to help,” she murmured, “but I better get back.”

Daryl let out a sigh, his nose brushing along her throat before he pressed a lingering kiss against the quick, fluttering beat of her pulse. “Shift’s almost over anyway,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Then come to my cell when you’re done.” The words were hesitant, her tone carrying the nerves she could not quite mask.

His hand tightened on her thigh in reassurance. “Don’ wanna wake you if you’re sleepin’,” he said, resting his chin against her shoulder

She turned her head just enough that her cheek brushed against his hair. “You won’t be waking me,” she whispered steadily, though her heart was pounding. She slid her hand down his chest, her fingertips tracing over the muscle there before resting lightly above the waistband of his pants. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes like he needed to be sure she meant it. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, the corners soft but certain. “I want you there, Daryl,” she said, her tone firm, leaving no room for doubt.

Watching his expression shift to relief mixed with a hunger he did not bother hiding, her smile widened. His thumb rubbed slow circles against her thigh, grounding himself. “Alright,” he replied shyly, but there was a promise in it.

XXXX

After slipping back into her clothes and tugging her boots on, Carol finally managed to pull herself away from Daryl, though not without him stealing more than a few lingering kisses that left her breathless and dizzy in an effort to keep her there. With her cheeks still warm and her lips tingling, she left the watchtower, heading across the yard toward the prison building with a lightness in her step she had not felt in years.

The grounds stretched out dark and quiet before her, the only illumination coming from the pale glow of the full moon overhead. Its light spilled across the cracked pavement and high fences, but it was not enough to see clearly. She cursed herself for not bringing a flashlight and drew her cardigan tighter around her body, quickening her pace against the cool night air.

Relief washed through her when the familiar steel doors loomed ahead. She gripped the handle and pulled, the hinges creaking as she slipped inside and shut it firmly behind her. The silence of the cell block pressed in, broken only by the faint hum of a lantern someone had left burning near the door. Grateful, she took it with her, its soft glow guiding her path through the common area and toward the inner gates that led to the cells.

The lantern light swayed in her grip as she climbed the metal steps, her boots ringing softly against the steel. At the top, she slowed, her pulse quickening when she realized she was not alone.

Rick was leaning against the railing with folded arms, his expression unreadable in the low light. The moment his eyes found hers, though, something flickered across his face – a look that told her he knew exactly where she had been.

She froze, heat rushing to her cheeks, though she fought to keep her voice steady. “Couldn’t sleep,” she murmured, holding the lantern a little higher like it was proof of her excuse.

Rick did not call her on it. He just gave her a small, knowing nod, the corners of his mouth tightening into something that was akin to a smile. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Long nights’ll do that.”

Her throat tightened as she brushed past him, the weight of his gaze following her as she walked away. It was not condemnation she felt in his look; it was understanding and perhaps even a little relief.

She ducked into her cell, setting the lantern down on the floor so the light spread in soft, uneven shadows across the concrete. With a shaky sigh, she sat on the thin mattress and began untying her boots, her fingers clumsy from exhaustion and the lingering hum still alive in her body.

Kicking them off, she leaned back against the wall, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. She could smell Daryl on her skin, clinging to her like a second layer, proof of what had happened between them. Closing her eyes, she let it wash over her – the weight of his hands, the way his voice had broken when he groaned her name and how careful and hungry he had been all at once. It sent a flutter through her chest and she realised that it made her feel alive rather than used up.

But Rick’s look still lingered in her mind. That quiet acknowledgement. He had not said much, but he did not have to. It was as if he had seen straight through her, past the flush in her cheeks and the careful mask she wore, and decided not to judge her for it. Instead, there had been something almost protective in his eyes, like he was glad she seemed to have found some semblance of happiness in the dark world they were now living in.

She swallowed hard, rubbing her arms as the air cooled around her, and lay down on the mattress, pulling a blanket over her. For once, her mind was not racing with memories or fears. It was filled with Daryl – the rough scrape of his stubble against her neck, the rasp of his voice and the way he had taken care of her in the aftermath.

As her eyes fluttered shut, she thought about Rick one last time, about the way he had not asked questions. Maybe he knew she did not owe anyone an explanation. Maybe he just understood.

Curling into herself, surrounded by the lingering scent of Daryl on her skin, Carol let sleep take her.

XXXX

The next time Carol woke up, it was to the sound of someone calling her name. Her body felt warm and heavy, cocooned in heat, and it took her a second to register the solid weight pressed against her back. Daryl was sprawled behind her, his chest flush to her spine, his arm draped securely and protectively around her waist, pinning her between him and the cold concrete wall.

Blinking groggily, she reached back and nudged his forearm. “Daryl… wake up. Someone’s calling me,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

He grunted and only tightened his hold, burying his face in her hair. “Ignore ‘em,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he buried his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply. “Prob’ly not important.”

Her eyes fluttered closed again despite herself, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back lulling her. His warmth seeped into her bones, and she let out a small, contented sigh.

Then the voice called her name again, sharper and cutting through the blissful haze. Her eyes snapped open as her pulse picked up. “I think it is,” she said reluctantly, twisting her head to look at him. “Can you move, please?”

He groaned in protest, rubbing a hand over his face before finally pushing himself upright. The mattress dipped as his weight shifted, and the sudden chill where his body had been made her shiver as he swung his legs to the floor.

She slid to the edge of the bunk, the concrete floor cold beneath her feet as she stood. She smoothed her shirt down with unsteady hands and pushed aside the sheet that served as her cell door.

Rick was standing just outside, his face drawn and pale in the dim light. Sweat darkened the hair at his temples, and his eyes were wide and frantic.

“Carol,” he said, breathless, almost stumbling over her name. “It’s Lori. She’s in labor. We need you – now.”

Her stomach tightened, sleep clearing from her head in an instant. “Where is she?”

“In our cell. It started earlier but now it’s all happening so fast.” He gestured sharply, already turning back towards their cell.

Carol followed without another word, the urgency in his voice pulling her along, every trace of warmth from Daryl’s arms replaced by a sharp jolt of adrenaline.

They reached the cell in seconds, Rick pushing the curtain aside with a rough shove. The faint lantern light inside flickered across Lori’s face, pale and slick with sweat. She lay on the thin mattress Rick must have dragged down from the bunk, her knees bent and breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

Carol dropped to her knees beside her, heart hammering. “Lori,” she said softly, her voice steadier than she felt.

Lori’s eyes fluttered open, a tremor of relief breaking through the pain.

Rick crouched on the other side, hand gripping Lori’s tightly. “Tell me what to do,” he said to Carol, the edge in his voice betraying his fear.

Carol took a quick breath, her mind snapping into focus. “We’ll need clean towels, water, anything to sterilize.” She looked sharply at Rick. “Go wake Beth and tell her to get the supplies from the shelves in the common area. I set everything out ready so she'll know what to get.”

Rick nodded once, already on his feet. “I’ll get her.” He gave Lori’s hand a last squeeze before sprinting out.

Carol turned back to Lori, pushing damp hair from her forehead. “It’s going to be alright,” she murmured, her own pulse pounding as she ran through everything that Hershel had taught her.

After cleaning her hands as thoroughly as she could, Carol did a careful examination, her palms cool against Lori’s fevered skin. Lori was almost fully dilated from Carol's guess and the baby’s heartbeat was strong beneath Hershel’s stethoscope’s thin diaphragm. She felt a sense of relief steady her hands even as dread curled low in her stomach. She felt completely out of her depth. 

Beth appeared in the doorway, her arms loaded with the supplies that they would need – the metal bowl, clamp, scalpel, gauze, a bundle of towels and several bottles of water. Her wide eyes darted from Carol to Lori.

“Here,” Beth said, breathless, dropping to her knees and setting the bundle down. “Is this enough?”

Carol nodded briskly, already reaching for the towels. “Perfect. Good job.” She gave Beth a quick, tight smile. “We’ll need the water boiled if we can. Find a clean pot, fast as you can.”

Beth swallowed hard, but she nodded and sprang back to her feet.

Lori let out a low moan, her hand clutching Carol’s sleeve. “It’s happening so fast…”

Carol tightened her grip around Lori’s fingers, her own voice calm and sure even as her heart raced. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ve got you.”

Beth reappeared a moment later with a metal pot, setting it down. Carol glanced at the supplies and forced herself to breathe.

She grabbed the camping stove they had scavenged weeks ago and turned the knob before pressing the ignition button and the tiny spark caught, a thin blue flame hissing to life. She set the pot of water over it, the faint metallic clink sounding far too loud in the cramped space.

Carol spared a quick glance over her shoulder. “Good, Beth, thank you. We’ll need that boiling as soon as it’s ready.”

Turning back to Lori, she smoothed another strand of hair from her face. Lori’s breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, her knuckles white against the mattress.

“Lori,” Carol said gently, keeping her voice low and even. “Has your water broken yet?”

Lori swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering as another contraction tightened her body. “Hours ago,” she admitted hoarsely. “I–I thought I’d just… wet myself.”

Carol’s stomach tightened. “Alright,” she said, forcing calm into her voice even as her mind raced. “That’s important. Thank you for telling me.” She reached for a towel, folding it with quick, practised movements. “Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing well, Lori.”

Beth looked over from the stove, her face pale but determined as the water began to tremble with the first signs of a boil. Carol caught her eye and gave a brief, firm nod, a small reassurance in the flickering lamplight.

When Carol looked back toward Lori, a dark red patch on the mattress caught her eye, and her stomach lurched. She forced her expression into something neutral, but Lori’s sharp gaze caught the flicker of alarm.

“What is it?” Lori demanded, her voice tight. “Why do you look like you’re about to faint?”

Before Carol could answer, another contraction ripped through Lori. Her fingers clawed at the edge of the mattress and she let out a raw, guttural cry, squeezing her eyes shut. “God, this hurts… it’s worse than when I had Carl,” she gasped between clenched teeth.

Carol took a deep breath and squeezed Lori's hand. “Lori, I need to examine you again when the contraction is over because you’re bleeding. Is that okay?”

Lori gave a quick, shaky nod, still trying to catch her breath as the contraction finally eased.

Carol moved carefully between her knees, her heart hammering. “Did you have any complications when Carl was born?” she asked, starting to examine her.

“I… I had a placental abruption,” Lori panted. “They had to do a c-section.”

Carol’s breath caught as her fingers came away slick and bright red, her pulse thundering in her ears. She grabbed a towel and wiped the blood from her hand, forcing herself to stay focused.

“Okay,” she said firmly, locking eyes with Lori. “This could be the same thing. Hershel warned me about this. We need to get this baby out fast. On the next contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can. Understand?”

Lori swallowed hard, her bottom lip trembling. “No… no, it’s too fast. It shouldn’t be this fast.” She shook her head in panic, eyes bright with unshed tears. “It’s going to hurt the baby if I push now.”

Carol squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb firmly over her knuckles to calm her. “I know it feels too soon, but you’re fully dilated and the baby needs to come before the blood loss puts either of you at risk.” Her voice was steady, but inside she felt the weight of every word and seeing Lori’s tears nearly broke her composure.

“Beth, go get Rick – now,” Carol said, not taking her eyes off Lori.

Beth jumped to her feet, pulling back the curtain and shouting for him.

Rick burst into the cell within seconds, eyes wide with fear and determination. He moved behind Lori in one swift motion, bracing her against his chest. “Use me for leverage,” he murmured against her damp hair. “Squeeze my hands as hard as you need. I got you.”

He slid his palms over the swell of her belly in slow, reassuring circles. Lori let out a strangled sob as another contraction seized her, her body bowing forward against the pressure.

Carol leaned closer, meeting Lori’s wide, frantic eyes. “Lori, listen to me,” she said firmly but gently. “You have to push now. I know it’s scary, but the baby needs out now. Deep breath, then bear down as hard as you can.”

Rick tightened his arms around her shoulders, his face pressed into her damp hair. “You can do this, I know you can,” he murmured, voice low and steady against her ear. “I’m right here. I got you. Just hold on to me.”

Lori cried out as the contraction reached its peak. She grabbed Rick’s hands with a desperate strength, her fingers clamping so tightly around his that the skin blanched under the pressure.

“That’s it, Lori – push!” Carol urged, keeping her voice calm but commanding. “Chin to your chest, breathe, and push with everything you’ve got. Good – just like that. Keep going, keep going!”

Lori wailed, a raw, piercing sound that echoed off the concrete walls. Her face twisted with effort, sweat streaming down her temples as she bore down. Rick held her steady, whispering soft words of encouragement against her hair even as his knuckles whitened beneath her grip.

“It burns.” She gasped. Every muscle in her neck and arms corded tight as she pushed, her nails digging into Rick’s skin. He did not flinch, just kissed her temple, whispering over and over, “You’re strong, Lori. I got you. Just breathe with me.”

Carol leaned forward, her heart pounding, eyes fixed between Lori’s legs. The push was working and she saw the baby’s head beginning to crown. A small patch of dark hair glistened in the dim light. But the sight was streaked with fresh blood, beginning to spill faster, staining the mattress beneath Lori’s hips.

“Good, Lori – good!” Carol urged, grabbing a towel with one hand and blotting away the blood as fast as it came. “I can see the head. Just a little more. Don’t stop now.” She pressed the towel firmly against Lori’s skin, her hands slippery and bright red as she tried to clear the way without losing focus.

Lori’s wails broke into sobs as the contraction ended and she sagged, her body shaking against Rick’s chest. He kissed the side of her head, his own voice cracking even as he murmured, “That’s it. That’s my girl. You're doin’ so well.”

Carol glanced at the baby’s head again, the crown pushing through the blood. She swallowed hard, her voice steadier than she felt. “Almost, Lori. On the next contraction, give me one more good push and the head will be out. You can do this.”

Lori only managed a quick nod, her chest rising and falling in sharp, heavy breaths as she squeezed her eyes shut. Carol pressed a clean towel beneath the small, slick curve of the baby’s head, and after cleaning her hands, reached for a bottle of water and a folded rag.

“Beth, is that water boiling yet?” Carol called, her voice firm but controlled. “We need it to sterilize the instruments.”

Without waiting for an answer, she poured a little of the cool water over the rag and wrung it out, then passed it to Rick. “Wipe her face and neck with this,” she instructed. “It’ll help cool her down before the next contraction hits.”

Rick took the cloth without a word, immediately dabbing at Lori’s flushed skin as she fought to catch her breath.

Beth hurried over, carefully gripping the handles of the small pot with a folded towel. Steam curled from the surface of the boiling water as she set it down beside Carol, her eyes wide but steady.

“It’s ready,” Beth said quickly. “What do you need me to do next?”

Carol didn’t look up from her work, her focus locked on the amount of blood that was trickling onto the towel. “Good. Leave the pot here,” she replied, her voice brisk. “Then I need you to grab more clean towels. Bring the baby blankets from the shelves in the common room, too. And get some diapers and a sleepsuit. There’s a suture kit in the medical box; bring that as well, just in case.”

Beth nodded sharply, already backing toward the door. “Got it.”

“Hurry,” Carol added without glancing up.

Beth spun and darted out of the cell, her footsteps fading as Carol dropped the clamps and scalpel into the pot of boiled water. 

Lori’s body went rigid against Rick's chest, a deep groan tearing from her throat as the next contraction started to build.

“It’s here – another one,” Rick murmured against her ear, tightening his arms around her shoulders. “Alright, breathe. You got this. Push when you’re ready.”

“Now, Lori,” Carol said firmly, her eyes fixed on the baby's head between Lori’s legs. “Deep breath and push hard. All the way through it – don’t hold back.”

Lori let out a strained cry, her face red and twisted. Her fingers locked around Rick’s again, squeezing so hard that he let out a wince. He leaned in, his voice low and steady even as sweat beaded on his brow. “That’s it, sweetheart. Keep goin’. I’m right here. You’re doin’ it.”

Carol’s heart hammered as the baby’s head eased forward, inch by inch, until the delicate features of the face came into view, glistening under the dim lantern light. Fresh blood welled around the tiny neck, and Carol quickly pressed the towel beneath it to keep the area clean.

“That’s it, Lori,” she urged, her voice a mix of command and reassurance. “The head’s out. Just hold steady and don’t push again until I tell you.”

Lori slumped back against Rick, her chest heaving, sweat glistening on her skin. 

“Does… does the baby look okay?” Lori rasped, her voice raw from the screams that had carried through each contraction.

“They’re perfect,” Carol said, glancing up with a quick, reassuring smile. “They look just like you.”

Before Lori could respond, Beth rushed back into the cell with the supplies Carol had asked for. She skidded to a stop, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the tiny head emerging between Lori’s legs.

“The… the head!” Beth breathed, her voice a mix of awe and shock. She’d helped deliver calves and foals back on the farm, but nothing compared to the raw, human urgency of what was in front of her.

“Good job, Beth, thank you,” Carol said quickly, never taking her eyes off Lori. “Set everything down right there.”

Beth knelt and placed the stack of supplies on the floor beside the pot of water, her hands trembling as she backed away to give space.

A low moan from Lori pulled Carol’s attention back. Another contraction was building, her whole body tightening as she gripped Rick’s hands like a lifeline.

Carol shifted forward, taking a deep breath. “Alright, Lori, this is it,” she said. “With this next push I think the shoulders will be out. Take a deep breath and give me everything you’ve got.”

Rick leaned closer, his cheek against Lori’s damp hair. “You’re almost there.”

Carol braced herself, ready to guide the tiny shoulders free as Lori screamed, her body arching forward when the contraction ripped through her. Her grip on Rick’s hands was bruising once again, but he was steady, murmuring words against her ear. “That’s it, push. You’re almost there. Just a little more.”

Carol kept her eyes locked on the baby, her hands steady despite the adrenaline flooding her veins. With Lori’s final push, the head turned slightly and, with careful guidance, the shoulders slid free – one, then the other, until the slick, tiny body slipped into Carol’s waiting hands in a rush of blood and fluid.

But the newborn was silent.

Carol’s heart seized. “Come on baby,” she muttered under her breath, wrapping the baby quickly in a clean towel. She laid the small bundle across her forearm and began briskly rubbing its back, her palm firm but gentle.

“Come on, little one,” she urged, her voice tight. “Breathe for me. Come on.”

Rick’s breath hitched audibly behind her, and Lori let out a weak, panicked sob.

Carol rubbed harder, wiping away blood and fluid, willing the tiny chest to rise. “Don’t give up,” she whispered, leaning close as she worked. “Come on, baby. Take a breath.”

The room felt unbearably still. The only sounds were Lori’s ragged breathing and the hiss of the camping stove that Beth had forgotten to turn off. Carol kept rubbing in small, firm circles over the baby’s slick back and chest, her own breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts.

“Come on,” she whispered, pleading and praying in her head to a God that she no longer really believed in. “You can do this. Breathe for me.”

Rick tightened his arms around Lori and looked at the motionless bundle. “Carol?” he asked hoarsely, fear breaking through his voice.

“Almost,” Carol said quickly, though her stomach was twisting in knots. She shifted the baby slightly, tilting their head to clear the airway and rubbed harder, her palms slick with vernix and blood. “Come on, little one. Just one breath. That’s all we need.”

Seconds stretched like hours and then a faint shudder ran through the tiny body.

Carol froze, then rubbed again with renewed urgency. A thin, wavering cry broke the silence, soft at first, then stronger, filling the cell with a high, piercing wail.

“There you go,” Carol breathed, relief crashing through her as the baby’s chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. “That’s it. Keep breathing.”

Rick let out a shaky sob and pressed a trembling kiss to the side of Lori’s head. Lori sagged against him, tears streaking her face as she let out a broken laugh of sheer relief.

Carol stopped rubbing, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Welcome to the world, little one,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

She kept one hand cradling the crying newborn, her mind already moving to the next step. “Beth,” she said softly, “come here and hold the baby for me while I cut the cord.”

Beth hurried forward, her hands outstretched but hesitant. “Careful,” Carol smiled, transferring the small, wriggling baby into Beth’s arms. “Support the head and keep the towel snug.”

Beth nodded, clutching the baby close as Carol reached for the sterilized clamps and scalpel from the pot of water. She gave the cord a quick inspection, then clamped it before cutting through the slick, still faintly pulsing length with a precise slice of the scalpel.

“Alright,” Carol said, wiping the scalpel on a towel and glancing at Beth. “Take the baby to Lori and Rick, please.”

Beth moved carefully, kneeling beside Lori and easing the tiny bundle into her waiting arms. Rick helped steady the baby as Lori held the tiny body tight against her chest, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

Carol took a brief breath of relief, then shifted her focus back to Lori. “Lori, I need to push on your stomach now,” she said gently. “It will probably trigger another contraction to push the afterbirth out.”

Lori gave a faint nod, her attention fixed on the baby nestled against her, while Carol began to feel the top of her bump before pressing down. 

Once she’d finished pressing on her stomach, her focus switched back to where she was before and she let out a heavy sigh of relief when she noticed that the flow of blood had reduced significantly. 

Without looking up as she checked for tears, she asked quietly, “Is the baby a boy or a girl? I was too focused on them not breathing to check.”

Lori let out a shaky laugh that was half a sob. “A girl,” she whispered, tightening her arms around the tiny bundle. “She’s… she’s a girl.”

Carol allowed herself the briefest smile, still focused on her task. “She’s strong – just like her mom.”

A ripple ran through Lori’s body, and she tensed with a sharp gasp.

“Another contraction,” she panted, her voice trembling.

Carol’s hands were already ready. “That’s the afterbirth,” she said calmly. “It'll be a lot easier than pushing a baby out.” 

Rick tightened his arms around Lori, holding her steady while the baby's cries quietened.

XXXX

Once the placenta was delivered and Lori was cleaned and settled as she tried to breastfeed the baby, Carol and Beth quietly gathered the bloodied towels, the medical instruments and the placenta to dispose of before leaving the cell.

Later, when things had been taken care of, Carol stood alone in the shower block, a metal bucket of cool water at her feet. Stripped down to her bra and panties, she worked the rag over her skin in slow, deliberate strokes, scrubbing away the sweat and the stubborn traces of blood. She paused to scrape beneath her fingernails where dark dried blood was trapped, making a mental note to find something sharp to trim them down.

She had just reached behind her back to unclasp her bra when footsteps echoed across the tiled floor.

“Carol? You in here?” Daryl’s voice carried through the air.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. She slid the straps from her shoulders and let the bra fall away. “Yeah, I’m here,” she called back, her voice steady despite the rush of excitement that fluttered in her stomach.

He walked up behind her but froze when his eyes fell to the tops of her thighs. Across the pale skin, ridges of thin, silvery lines stood out, scars from what he assumed was a belt that looked achingly familiar. His chest tightened as recognition hit, memories of his own childhood flashing sharp and fast in front of his eyes.

His stomach turned, bile creeping up the back of his throat as a fresh image forced its way into his mind: Ed, belt in hand, striking her again and again. He’d felt them earlier, during sex, under his palms when he’d held her, but he’d been too focused on everything else to notice. But standing behind her, the truth stared back at him, impossible to ignore.

He wanted to fall to his knees and press his lips to every scar, to somehow erase each mark and the memories that came with them.

Carol turned her head at the sudden silence, a small, gentle smile on her lips. “You okay?” she asked softly.

When she followed his gaze, her smile instantly faltered. Quickly, almost instinctively, she turned her body to shield herself from view. The movement exposed her bare torso just enough for him to see more scars – the small, round cigarette burns scattered above the waistband of her panties.

Carol’s breath caught as she realized what he had seen. Her arms came up instinctively, folding across her chest as if she could hide every mark at once.

“I – it’s… they’re just…” Her voice wavered, the words tripping over themselves before they could form. “It was… a long time ago. It’s nothing.”

The way she hugged herself told a different story. Her shoulders curled inward, her chin dipping toward her collarbone, every line of her body trying to shrink beneath his gaze.

His throat worked, but no sound came out. He took a single step forward, careful and slow, like approaching a wounded animal. “Carol…” he said quietly.

She shook her head quickly, eyes darting to the floor. “Please… don’t –” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He stopped where he was, clenching his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her. “Ain’t your fault,” he rasped, each word rough with anger that was not aimed at her. “None of it.”

She squeezed her arms tighter around herself and shook her head, blinking back the sting in her eyes, torn between the urge to turn away completely and the fragile comfort of his presence.

Daryl took another step, then another, slow enough that she could stop him if she wanted. The air between them felt heavy, thick with everything unsaid.

When he finally reached her, he stopped just within arm’s length. “Carol,” he said again, softer and quieter.

She did not move, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on the damp tile floor.

Without a word, he lifted a calloused hand and rested it lightly on her upper arm. The touch was barely there, but she flinched away. “You don’t gotta hide,” he murmured. “Not from me.”

Carol’s breath shuddered, her arm trembling beneath his palm. “I… I can’t– ”

“You can,” he interrupted gently. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. Not one damn thing.”

He moved closer until his chest almost brushed her skin, his warmth a shield against the cool air. Slowly and carefully, he slid his other hand over her crossed arms, not to pull them away but to hold them with her, matching the pressure she kept on herself.

Carol leaned forward the smallest fraction, just enough for him to feel it. Her eyes stayed down, but the rigid set of her body began to soften under his steady touch.

“You ain’t what he did,” He whispered, lowering his head to brush his lips against her hair. “You’re still you.”

Her breath hitched again, and she let it out with a trembling sigh, the tension in her arms easing slightly.

Carol stayed still for a long moment, the quiet drip of water from the side of the bucket the only sound between them. Her arms loosened just slightly beneath his hands, enough that she could draw a shaky breath.

“I used to think…” Her voice was low. “If I stayed quiet, if I just… did everything right, he wouldn’t…” She broke off, swallowing hard as the memories tightened around her throat.

“But it never mattered,” she continued after a moment, her words coming in halting bursts. “No matter what I did, he always found a reason. And I let him. I let him do it for so long. His belt was his favourite thing to beat me with.”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She bit her lip, a flicker of shame flashing across her face before she dropped her gaze again.

Daryl leaned in just enough for his breath to warm her ear. “You didn’ let him,” his voice was firm and quiet. “He did that. ’S on him, not you.”

She blinked hard, a tear escaping despite her efforts to hold it back. “Sometimes I still feel like… people can see all of my scars. Even if I cover up.”

“Only thing I see,” He murmured, giving her arms the faintest squeeze, “is you. Beautiful and stronger than anybody I ever met.” He lifted his hand and wiped the tear away with his thumb. 

A soft, unsteady sound that was almost a sob escaped her, and for the first time she tilted her head slightly toward him, letting his presence fill the space she had spent so long protecting.

Chapter Text

Once she had washed up and pulled on clean clothes, Carol walked back to her cell with Daryl at her side. His hand was resting lightly on the small of her back as they climbed the stairs.

“You must be tired, huh?” he asked, glancing at her.

“I feel pretty awake, actually,” she replied with a faint smile. “You could’ve gone back to sleep, though.”

“Nah.” He gave a small shake of his head. “Was worried. ’Bout you. ’Bout the baby and Lori… knew how nervous you were.”

Carol did not answer right away. They reached the top, boots echoing softly along the catwalk, the prison silent except for the distant hum of night. Only when they stepped inside her cell did she finally speak, tossing her dirty clothes onto the small pile of laundry in the corner.

She flicked on the lantern perched atop a stack of books, warm light spilling across the gray concrete walls. Turning back to him, she looped her arms around his neck, her voice soft in the quiet. “You’re such an enigma, you know that?”

One corner of his mouth twitched, but he did not interrupt.

“You’ve got this huge heart, Daryl,” she continued, her eyes searching his face. “But you guard it so fiercely. It… it means a lot, knowing you were worried about me. But you didn’t have to be. Everything went smoothly. Rick and Lori have a beautiful baby girl.”

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she quickly pushed it away and met his gaze again.

His hands found her hips, and he grazed his thumbs over the strip of warm skin where her shirt had ridden up. “Must be hard, seein’ them with their lil’ girl,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his nose to brush hers.

Shaking her head, she cleared her throat. “It wasn’t, actually. I didn’t even think about it until I said the words ‘baby girl’ out loud.”

Daryl studied her face for a long moment, his thumbs still tracing idle circles against her hips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong if it did hurt,” he said finally. “You don’ gotta pretend with me.”

Her breath hitched, but she held his gaze. “I’m not pretending. It’s just… different now. I can be happy for them without wishing it was me.”

He nodded slightly, but his eyes remained holding her gaze. “Still,” he murmured, “don’ mean you don’t feel it. Don’ make you weak, neither.”

The warmth in his touch deepened as he spoke, steady and reassuring without pressing her to say more. She felt it in the way his calloused fingers brushed her skin and found herself blinking back tears at the tenderness.

“I’ve felt it,” he admitted after a pause, the confession gruff. “Watchin’ other folks get what I never had… stings, even when you don’ expect it.”

Her chest tightened at the honesty in his voice. She lifted one hand from around his neck and touched his jaw, her thumb tracing the rough edge of his scruff. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For saying that.”

His eyes softened, a faint warmth breaking through the guarded look he usually wore. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, though his hands stayed right where they were.

Carol’s thumb lingered against his jaw, and he tilted his head just enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her palm.

Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, soft and heavy, filled with the faint hum of the lantern and the sound of someone snoring in the distance.

His hands slid a fraction higher, fingers splaying across the small of her back, and she shifted closer, the front of her body brushing his chest. Her other hand slipped from his neck to rest against his shoulder, feeling the muscle twitch slightly beneath the worn fabric of his shirt.

“You sure you’re okay?” “I am,” she whispered, the words trembling slightly with anticipation. “Especially right now.”

He flicked his eyes to her lips, then back up. He did not move any further, but the small space between them felt electric and charged, and her fingertips curled into the fabric at his shoulder in quiet invitation. Daryl leaned in until their foreheads touched, his breath warm against her skin, his hands firm on her back as he drew her in as close as possible. 

He brushed his nose against hers, urging her to tilt her head, and the moment she did, he caught her lips in a soft kiss. Sighing into his mouth, she looped her arms back around his neck and the kiss deepened almost instantly, her tongue teasing along the seam of his lips until he parted them for her.

A quiet groan rumbled in his chest when their tongues met, sliding against each other. His hands slid lower, cupping her ass firmly. She hummed in approval, her nerves sparking to life as he kneaded and squeezed, dragging her against the hard plane of his body. Heat shot through her, nearly overwhelming, and she broke the kiss with a shaky breath.

Panting softly, she tugged her sweater up over her head and let it fall before she reached back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra.

“You wanna… again?” He asked, his eyes so dark that the pupils swallowed up the blue.

She nodded quickly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, but her hands faltered on the clasp. “Do you?” she asked, a hint of shyness creeping in.

“Ain’t gotta ask,” he said with a low chuckle, his hands still gripping her ass. He gave her another firm squeeze, dragging her against him again until the friction made her thighs tremble. A soft moan slipped from her lips, her body betraying her need.

Her bra clasp finally gave, and she shrugged the straps down her arms before letting the fabric fall to the floor. Daryl’s gaze dropped, his breath catching as he took her in. His hands slid from her ass up her back, his palms mapping every curve before he dragged her in for another kiss in an almost animalistic manner, his teeth grazing her lip as if he could not get close enough.

She whimpered against his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly as his tongue swept over hers. The sound seemed to spur him on, and his grip tightened as he walked her back until the backs of her knees hit the cot.

She sank down onto it, pulling him with her. His weight pressed her into the thin mattress, while his hands roamed without hesitation, one cupping her breast, the other gripping her thigh through the fabric of her pants, squeezing firmly before sliding higher as he urged her legs apart.

“Daryl – ” she gasped, her voice breaking as she arched into him.

“Shh,” he murmured against her throat, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there. “Gotta be quiet.”

His hand pressed more firmly against her thigh, inching upward over the fabric, the pressure sparking heat low in her belly. She rocked up into him, desperate for friction, a helpless sound spilling from her lips as she clutched at his shoulders.

Her hands slid down to fumble at the buttons on his shirt, undoing a few between heated kisses until he broke away just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it aside before capturing her mouth again.

Her palms roamed across the solid muscle of his chest and down the ridges of his stomach before drifting to his waistband. Her pulse spiked when he groaned, the rough sound echoing in her ears, as her knuckles brushed against his cock. His hips bucked in unrestrained need, the sudden movement jolting against her and making her breath catch. Heat surged low in her belly, a sharp thrill running through her at the sound and the undeniable knowledge that she was the one drawing it out of him.

His own hands were not still for long. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and began to pull them down, encouraging her to lift her hips to help him so that he could peel the fabric down over her thighs.

She kicked them away, leaving her in nothing but panties, and he swallowed audibly as he looked down at her sprawled out beneath him. “You're somethin’ else…” he rasped, his voice filled with awe.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, tugging him down to her again, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

He growled deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against her mouth, and yanked himself away just long enough to tear off his boots and shove his pants down his legs. They hit the floor in a heap, and then he was back on the bed, kissing her mercilessly, all tongue and teeth, like the few moments of being away from her were too much. He snaked his hand between them and shoved at her panties, tugging the fabric aside instead of bothering to take them off. Cool air hit her flesh, making her jolt, a sharp whimper spilling against his mouth as her body arched up toward him.

Instead of using his fingers, he shifted, bracing himself with one hand and slid his thigh between hers. The solid weight of muscle pressed right against her, the coarse hair on his leg dragging over her clit, and her whole body reacted instinctively. She gasped, her hips jerking down reflexively as she rolled against him. “No.” The word contradicted her movements, and she could already feel the slick of her arousal on his skin. “I…I want you.” 

“Shh,” he muttered, his mouth hot against her collarbone as he kissed and sucked with an urgency that almost scared him. “Lemme make you feel good.” His hands clamped down on her hips, holding her in place for a moment before guiding her, rolling her against the thick muscle of his thigh. His breathing was ragged, a rough laugh slipping out as he glanced at her. “Dunno if I’ll last long enough to make you… y’know. Wanna do this first,” his voice was husky with restraint, a flicker of shyness creeping in.

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath as he used his hands to shift her hips again, and sharp sparks of pleasure shot through her body. Her nails scraped hard across the skin of his shoulders when she moved herself, becoming desperate and hungry as she chased the friction. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one caught between her moans. His mouth was dry when he flexed his thigh deliberately, the muscle tightening as he shifted his weight, and she made a keening noise he had not heard before. The sound made him panic for a moment, but the way her thighs quivered told him he had hit exactly where she needed it.

He felt clumsy and out of his depth, like some teenager fumbling his way through things he had only ever seen once on an old porn video that Merle had been watching in their shared trailer a few months before the fall. None of it was practiced or rehearsed, and he was insistent on getting it right. 

“Fuck,” she gasped, tipping her head back, the pale line of her throat bared to him. Sweat trickled down her temple, her hair sticking to her skin, but she did not care – her entire world had shrunk to the relentless friction of his thigh between hers. 

“Please…” she breathed, her voice shaky as she sought more from him. 

Trying to gauge what she needed, Daryl shifted and began to move his thigh from left to right, and she whimpered as the movements made her vision spark with black dots. The steady grind of her against his bare thigh left his skin slick, every shift of her hips smearing more wetness across him. The heat of it made his cock jerk and twitch, the need to be inside her almost unbearable. In some desperate attempt to distract himself, he bent his head, dragging his tongue slowly over the curve of her breast before lowering until his nose bumped her stiff nipple, pausing to breathe her in. When his lips closed around the areola, sucking it deep into his mouth, she whined, whatever words she had begun to say turning into an unintelligible slur.

Her back arched as she pushed herself against him, her fingers clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto. The dual sensation of his mouth and the friction between her thighs left her trembling, her hips rolling in jerky, erratic movements.

He hummed against her breast and released her nipple before dragging his mouth up her throat, licking the salty sheen of sweat from her neck, then sucked hard at her pulse. His stubble scraped her raw in places, the combination of sting and heat only spurring her hips to move faster, grinding herself harder against him until the bed squeaked under the rhythm of her movements.

A shot of pain travelled through his thigh when her thighs tightened to a point where he thought she’d snap the bone, but he ignored it, watching her tremble as she moved in such a carnal way, desperately chasing the high that was already clawing at the bottom of her spine. Each drag of her clit across the firm muscle of his thigh made her breath hitch, her body twitching helplessly against him.

“Tha’s it,” Daryl grunted against her skin, his voice rough. His lips brushed her breast again, using his tongue to circle the swollen peak before sucking it hard into his mouth. “You’re so close. C’n feel it.”

His thigh flexed again, and when his teeth scraped against her nipple, she shuddered and her rhythm broke apart into unsteady bursts that smeared more slick heat across his skin, wet and messy. The sharp spike of pleasure stole her voice, leaving only gasps that rang in his ears as she shattered against him.

Her orgasm rushed through her like a shockwave, violent tremors racking her body as she clamped a hand over her mouth, babbling his name against her palm. Her back arched again, while her hips jerked helplessly against his thigh. She scrabbled at his bicep with her free hand, the blunt edge of her nails pressing into him, clinging to whatever she could hold as she came apart.

Daryl pulled back just enough to see her face, his breathing heavy as he watched her unravel. The sight of her with her eyes squeezed shut, mouth covered but still spilling his name and her body writhing as she ground against him held him completely captive. He felt his chest tighten, but he could not look away. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Easy, I got you… yeah, that’s it…” he muttered hoarsely, forcing himself to breathe, his words muffled against her breast between kisses and licks meant to soothe. He kept his thigh pressed firm, flexing against her, letting her grind out every last pulse of release against him.

She whimpered helplessly as the aftershocks wracked her, her hips twitching with each smaller surge until finally she stopped, trembling and boneless. Daryl kissed the swell of her breast again, then pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, murmuring more words of quiet reassurance while one rough hand stroked down her side to ground her.

He kissed her neck once more before lifting his head to check that she was not crying after the tears she had shed earlier in the tower. Her skin was damp with sweat, and her chest flushed, her hair clinging to her temples as he gazed down at her. She blinked up at him in dazed astonishment, her lips parting as she struggled to find words. 

He swallowed hard, the sound rough in the quiet space, then let his thumb drift along the bridge of her nose in a slow, almost hesitant stroke before dipping down to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Looked so damn beautiful just now,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice a little shaky. He gave a small, nervous bump of his nose against hers, his breath warm between them. “Ain’t never met a woman like you. Never figured I’d be here like this… with you.”

She cupped his cheek, still adrift in the thick, sweet fog of post-orgasmic bliss. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, each beat echoing through the haze in her head. She struggled to find words, her thoughts almost too jumbled to speak. 

After a moment, she finally found her voice, though it came out softer than she intended, her breath still catching between words. “Daryl… you don’t know how much that means to me.” Her fingertips traced the back of his neck, slow and trembling as the tips stuttered over his skin.

She drew in another shaky breath, her muscles feeling loose and heavy. “I never thought I’d… feel like this again. Safe. Wanted.” Her eyes searched his, dark and glassy in the lantern light. “You make me feel… alive. Like you're dulling every bad thing he did to me and replacing those memories with something new.” 

His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb along her jaw. “Ain’t tryin’ to downplay what he did. Jus’ tryin’ to show you what you deserve. Ain't never met nobody who made me feel like this either,” he admitted quietly. Her lips curved into a faint, unsteady smile as she leaned into his touch. “You're a wonderful man.” She whispered before kissing him. 

As he shifted his hips and deepened the kiss to try to convey exactly what he felt for her, she felt the hard, insistent press of his cock through his boxers against her thigh. The pressure was undeniable, a solid reminder that had her arousal sparking back to life in an instant, and it sent a sharp ache rushing through her. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged lightly, rolling her hips up to buck against him. The friction made him shudder, his breath stuttering against her mouth, as a groan vibrated through his chest. His hands moved down with a rough urgency until they hooked into the waistband of her panties. He tugged, stretching the elastic against her skin, and broke the kiss just long enough to strip them down her legs and fling them carelessly aside.

The urge to taste her, to bury his face between her thighs, was almost overwhelming as the thought flared hot in his mind. But then her hand slid beneath the waistband of his boxers, her fingers curling firmly around his cock. She squeezed, and he hissed sharply through his teeth, his hips twitching forward against her palm. “God…feels good.” His pulse thudded wildly, and he kissed her again with a raw, desperate heat that stole her breath. She felt the edge of his teeth scrape her lip, the weight of his chest pressing her into the mattress, and the heat of his body sinking into hers. Then, with a frustrated growl, he pulled away to rip off his boxers, the movement quick and impatient with the need to be inside her.

When he stood naked before her, Carol let her gaze trail over him. Broad, muscular legs, the sharp cut of his V-lines, the subtle definition of his abdomen, and his cock, thick and hard, curving up against his stomach. She swallowed hard, her eyes following the taut flex of his torso as he moved back onto the bed, lowering himself over her once again.

“This okay?” he asked as he settled between her thighs.

She nodded, biting her lip as she bracketed his hips with her legs. “Yes, it’s okay,” she murmured, sliding one hand to the small of his back to draw him closer.

“All I been able to think about is bein’ inside you,” he confessed against her skin, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. Each brush of his lips made her pulse jump, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin until she was trembling beneath him. Her body answered before her words did, a fresh rush of moisture spreading between her thighs. Once again, she could not find her voice, so she slid her hand between them, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding the head of his cock through her labia, coating him in her wetness. The sound was slick and obscene in the quiet cell, each movement amplified by the silence. His breath hitched and turned ragged, the sound filling her ears, his chest heaving against hers.

“Me either, when I had a moment to myself,” she whispered, meeting his eyes when he lifted his head.

He pressed forward slowly, and she felt every inch as he stretched her, her walls clenching tight around him, drawing him deeper. She watched his jaw go slack, and her chest rose and fell in quick succession as she saw the pure, unguarded bliss on his face – an expression so erotic and raw, she wanted to etch it into her memory forever. He withdrew until only the tip remained, then drove back in, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness tore a strangled moan from her lips as pleasure surged through her in an intense rush. 

Her fingers flexed against the hard muscles of his back as he filled her, the stretch making her body tense before melting into the dizzying relief of being full. She was still sensitive from her orgasm, her thighs twitching against his hips, and she was grateful when he stayed still long enough for her body to adjust. He could feel nothing but the slick, hot grip of her around him, the sensation almost overwhelming. He let his forehead drop to rest against hers, their breaths mixing in short, uneven bursts between parted lips.

When he finally moved, it was agonizingly slow. He withdrew again until she could feel herself clenching around nothing, then eased back in slowly, his cock sliding against every sensitive nerve inside her. The drag made her toes curl, a low moan slipping from her throat.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasped, his voice broken, the words spilling out against her cheek before his lips brushed hers again. His hips rolled into hers in long, deliberate strokes, and each one pulled a sound from her, soft and breathy noises that filled the quiet.

She arched into him, her chest pressing against his, her nipples brushing the heat of his skin with every shift. His body was a wall of warmth and weight, pinning her into the thin mattress in a way that only made her crave more. His hand slid from her where it was splayed over her ribs to her thigh, gripping firmly before pushing her knee higher, opening her up to him. The new angle made him sink deeper, the stretch sharper, and a gasp caught in her throat. He groaned at the sound, his hips stuttering as if the noise alone undid him.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. She forced her eyes open, meeting his. What she saw there – the hunger, the awe and the way he was fighting to keep control, sent another rush of heat surging through her. She clenched around him in response, and his jaw tightened, his breath leaving him in a ragged hiss.

Every thrust was slow but weighted, each one dragging out the ache of anticipation before giving her the relief of fullness again. It built tension inside her, like a rubber band being pulled taut with every pass of his cock against the spot deep inside her. She whimpered, her fingers sliding up into his hair, clutching at the strands as though holding him there could keep her from unraveling too fast. 

He kissed her again, his mouth pressing into hers with a desperate tenderness that clashed with the relentless drive of his body. His tongue brushed against hers, his breath uneven, and she tasted the hunger in him and the need that matched her own.

The rhythm stayed unhurried, each stroke dragging sensation higher, each thrust making the pressure inside her mount until she was trembling beneath him, her thighs quivering where they clamped tight around his waist.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured against her lips, his voice barely more than a growl, his breath fanning hot across her face.

Her answer broke off in a gasp when his mouth dragged lower, lips grazing the damp skin of her throat. He lingered there, tasting her, before finding the hollow of her collarbone, rolling the skin between his teeth. The sound that escaped was half-moan, half-plea, her fingers clutching tighter in his hair. 

“Tell me,” he repeated against her skin, the words muffled but vibrating through her in a way that made her whimper. His hips rolled deeper, the steady weight of him filling her again and again, dragging her closer to the edge.

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered, the pressure in her pelvis so fierce it seemed to radiate through her whole body. Driven by urgency, he quickened his pace, thrusting harder, each movement jarring the thin mattress until the bed squeaked beneath them. “That…oh, god,” she moaned, her head tipping back against the pillow. Her fingers clawed at his back, dragging down the slick skin as her body fought to anchor itself against the relentless rhythm. Her thighs trembled as she struggled to keep them in place. The heat inside her built higher with every stroke, each one sharper and deeper, until it burned through her nerves and left her gasping for air.

He groaned, the sound rough and desperate, his breath coming out in bursts against her neck. “Carol…” he ground out, his voice strained as though he was fighting to hold himself together. His hips snapped forward again, driving deep, the steady slap of flesh echoing off the concrete walls. The noises – his labored breathing, her muffled moans and the slick rhythm of their bodies, filled the space until nothing existed but them. She could not form words, only gasps and broken moans, her head pushing back into the thin pillow as her body began to shudder beneath him, giving in to the flood of sensation. 

He felt her start to flutter around him, gripping him so tight it bordered on pain, and it ripped a harsh groan from his chest. “That's it…come for me baby.” he rasped, his voice rough and strained, his mouth dragging unsteadily along her throat.

The sensation and hearing him call her baby in his rough, strained voice sent her spiraling. With one more deep thrust from him, the tension inside her snapped, her orgasm tearing through her so forcefully that it stole the breath from her lungs. “Daryl – oh god. Oh god.” She clutched at him with everything she had, her nails digging half-crescent moons into the slick muscles of his back as her heartbeat roared in her ears. 

“Fuck–” he choked out, his control unraveling the second he felt her clench around him, dragging him over the edge. His hips jerked once, twice, and then he was coming, buried deep as his release tore through him in hot, pulsing spurts. He groaned against her neck, the sound rough and broken as his body shuddered hard with every contraction.

She felt it, the heat of him spilling into her, the way his cock throbbed with every spasm, and it only dragged her orgasm out for longer until it was almost too much. She whimpered his name as she floated, feeling weightless and overwhelmed, even as his weight pinned her down and she clung desperately to him.

He gave one last weak thrust and lifted his head, their mouths bumping clumsily in a messy kiss. Her body felt wrung out, every muscle heavy and bone-deep tired, as she finally loosened her grip on him and let her arms fall uselessly to her sides. Exhaustion pressed down on her so thick she thought she could sleep for a week and still wake up tired.It had been the strangest twenty-four hours since the fall, maybe of her whole life. Hershel’s leg had been amputated, and she could still see the blood if she let herself think on it too long. Then there had been the shock of pushing through her own trauma, letting Daryl close and letting him touch her in ways she never thought she would be able to stand again. Lori had gone into labor only hours later, the cries of the newborn still ringing in her ears. And then, somehow, she had ended up having sex with Daryl again, only this time without the dark cloud of her past hanging over her. Thinking about it, with Daryl’s ragged breathing still filling her ears, she almost laughed. It was absurd. Impossible, even. She struggled to wrap her head around the fact that all of it had unfolded in the span of a single day.

The fog of her thoughts cleared when she felt Daryl press a soft, almost hesitant kiss to her forehead before pulling out, leaving her tender and achingly empty. “Carol?” His voice was quiet, rough from exertion as he shifted to lie on his side, pressing close to her so they could both fit on the narrow bed.

She turned her head toward him, meeting his eyes in the dim light, and hummed softly in answer. “Yeah?”

“You good? Gone all quiet on me.” He chewed at his bottom lip, glancing down for a moment before meeting her eyes again, unsure if he should continue or just stay quiet. His chest tightened with a mix of worry and concern because he had never seen her so overwhelmed, and he was not sure on what to do.

Carol shifted onto her side to face him, her hand lifting to brush her fingers across his cheek in a soft, comforting stroke. She gave him a faint, tired smile. “Sorry. I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at a few strands nervously. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, fumbling for the blanket until he tugged it over them both, glancing at her again to gauge her reaction.

She huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head as strands of sweat-dampened hair rustled against the pillow. “How ridiculous these past twenty-four hours have been. Hershel losing his leg, Lori giving birth and us. It's a lot to process.”

Feeling his defenses snap into place, Daryl swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod, his gaze sliding past her shoulder to the wall. His jaw tightened, and he shifted, like he was not sure where to put his hands. “You regrettin’ it? Us, I mean…” he muttered, the words heavy with vulnerability. He swallowed again, blinking rapidly, as if hoping the question would somehow vanish before she answered.

“What makes you think that? Of course I don’t.” She reached up, using her thumb and forefinger to gently guide his chin until he was looking at her. “I don’t regret it at all. You’re the only good thing in this fucked-up life right now, Daryl.” Her voice cracked on his name, and she blinked furiously to hold back tears. 

His throat worked, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair again. “Sorry… jus’ ain’t used to this. Ain’t used to someone… wantin’ me,” he murmured, still trying not to meet her eyes at first. His gaze flicked up to hers briefly, then darted away again, like he was scared of reading her expression too closely.

“Told you,” he went on, his voice low, “I ain’t never done this before. S’all new to me.” His heart was hammering, and for a moment, he looked genuinely unsure if he had said too much.

She nodded, her fingers drifting to trace the sharp edge of his jaw. She felt the muscle tense beneath her touch, then ease slowly as he let her. “I know,” she said softly. “And it makes me happy that you decided to share this with me, out of everyone. I promise, I don’t regret a second of it. It’s been… wonderful.”

His shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his hands still fidgeted slightly. He let out a shaky breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in a nervous, almost sheepish smile, as if her words were both comforting and overwhelming all at once.

Chapter Text

Carol had no idea what time it was when she woke up. Since the fall, she rarely did, unless she looked to the sky. Whilst they were on the road, Daryl had taught her how to tell the time based on how high the sun was in the sky. She felt it was a useless skill to have considering the state of the world, but she appreciated the effort he had put into teaching her nonetheless. He had been so patient and gentle with her when she got confused and her stomach fluttered at the memory. 

Daryl had already slipped out an hour before she woke so the bed was empty beside her. He had gone to wash and talk with Rick about a supply run. Now that the baby was born, they all knew food and diapers would run out fast. Lori pissed him off most days, but he was not about to let the kid go without. That was just who he was.

She rolled to her side and pushed herself up, clutching the thin blanket to her chest. Privacy was scarce in the prison as anyone could barge in, and Carl especially had a habit of wandering into her cell without warning. She was not about to risk being caught naked. Moving quickly, she poured some water into a bowl and cleaned herself as best she could. When her fingers brushed the tender skin between her thighs, her breath hitched. The ache there was sharp and lingering, her body’s reminder of what had happened. A shiver went through her, not entirely from discomfort, and she slowed her hand, gentling the touch.

Once she finished, she dried herself off and dressed again, slipping into the same clothes she had barely worn before they were stripped away. The underwear felt stale against her skin, but resources were too scarce to dwell on it.

She crouched in front of the cracked mirror balanced on the old toilet tank, combing her fingers through her rapidly growing-out buzzcut. Her eyes flickered down and she noticed the red marks scattered across her throat and collarbones. Heat rose beneath her skin as memories of the previous night crowded in, vivid and unrelenting. Daryl’s mouth dragging over her skin, his stubble scraping her raw and his weight pressed tight against her as he thrusted. The thought made her thighs press together, her body beginning to hum as she remembered.

But then Ed's voice came out of nowhere. “You're such a slut, Carol. Nothing but a filthy whore lettin’ a man do that to you.”  

With Ed's voice still echoing in her ears, part of her felt ashamed. He had not been dead long and she was already with another man. But, he had been abusive so part of her also felt liberated that she had found Daryl, who despite his rough appearance and the way he grunted at people, was so soft and kind towards her. He was patient and treated her with respect – something she never experienced with her dead husband. 

She took a long breath, steadying herself, and suddenly thought of the gift that Beth had given her weeks ago. It was a tube of concealer, scavenged from a pharmacy on one of the runs. Carol had not understood why the girl bothered with makeup when the world was in such a mess, but Beth had smiled and pressed it into her hand anyway. It was useless then, but extremely invaluable in that moment.

Digging into one of the backpacks that she had stowed underneath the bed, she found it, tucked away in a little pocket. Her fingers tightened around the cold plastic tube and she pulled it out. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she did not feel like hiding because of shame, but only because she was not ready to share anything with the rest of the group yet. What they had done, what he had given her, was hers to keep for now.

As she twisted the lid free and pulled out the wand, a wave of sadness pressed in on her. Makeup had never been about vanity for Carol. She had been an expert at it, with years of practice in hiding bruises and scratches, even the occasional black eye. She had gotten so good at it that no one ever batted an eyelid when she dropped Sophia off at school. On many mornings, she would spend an hour in front of the mirror, layering and blending until the damage disappeared, until she could pass for normal. Looking down at the flesh-colored liquid in that moment, she felt the weight of that history settle heavy in her chest. The sight of it was a reminder she had not expected, sharp enough to sting.

But this time the marks were different. They were not left by a fist or a cruel hand. They came from Daryl, from moments that had made her feel wanted instead of worthless. That truth did not erase the old reflexes, though. Her hands still shook as she lifted the wand, muscle memory carrying her through the motions as she remembered the lightest brush of a concealer wand over a fresh bruise and the agony that accompanied it. She swallowed hard and dabbed the concealer over the first red mark on her neck, sighing at how familiar the act felt. It was like slipping back into an old habit she had sworn she would never need again.

She worked slowly, dabbing and blending, the pale smear of makeup spreading over the mark until it was dulled to nothing. Her fingers steadied as she went, falling into the routine like second nature. One mark, then another, each one erased under the careful sweep of the wand. By the time she leaned back and caught her reflection in the cracked mirror, the evidence was gone.

On the surface, at least. To anyone else, she looked as though she had just woken from a restless night, her skin pale but unmarked. Only she knew what lay beneath – the tenderness still lingering where his mouth had been and the flush of memory as he sucked at her skin in the throes of passion that burned through her no matter how carefully she covered it.

She capped the concealer and set it aside, staring at the neat and neutral skin in the mirror. It was perfect and convincing, but she hated that it needed to be.

Once her boots were laced, Carol ran her fingers through her hair again, checking her reflection in the cracked mirror one final time before stepping out of the cell. She pinned the curtain back to let some air in and set off down the catwalk to check on Lori and the baby.

XXXX

When she reached Lori and Rick’s cell, she called out softly, but there was no reply. She had not expected Lori to be up and about so soon, especially not after how drained she had been at the end of her pregnancy.

A frown tugged at Carol’s brow as she headed down the stairs, passing through the gate into the common area. The murmur of voices reached her before she turned the corner, where the rest of the group had gathered.

Her steps faltered when she spotted Daryl. He stood with his back to her, his shoulders slightly hunched as he spoke quietly to someone she could not see. She was about to move toward Lori, who was perched oddly on a cushion, looking pale and tired, but then Daryl turned around.

And her world stuttered to a stop.

He was holding the baby. The tiny little girl was swaddled in the crocheted blanket and looked impossibly fragile in his arms, yet he cradled her like it was the most natural thing in the world. All the roughness and tension she had come to know in him seemed to fall away in that moment. His eyes were soft and his body relaxed, and when he lifted his head to meet hers, he gave her a shy, uncertain smile.

The sight ripped something open in her chest. It was too much. Her mind leapt to Sophia, to the weight of her daughter in her arms when she had been a baby and then to everything she had lost. The ache of it was unbearable, mingling with the guilt of knowing that she could never give Daryl that. It twisted into longing and then into grief so sharp it made her stomach turn.

Blinking furiously, she tried to calm herself down, but tears formed in her eyes anyway. Her throat constricted, her breathing becoming short and shallow. The walls seemed to close in, the noise of the group fading to nothing but the hammering of her own pulse. Without a word to anyone, she spun on her heel and bolted for the door to go outside, panic clawing its way up through her chest until she felt like she might suffocate.

She barely registered the clang of the door as it closed behind her, only the rush of humid air hitting her face. Her chest tightened, breaths tearing out in short, useless bursts that left her dizzy. She staggered to the nearest stretch of wall, pressing her palm flat against the rough concrete as if she could hold herself upright through force alone.

Her vision tunneled, the prison courtyard narrowing to a blur. The sound of her desperate attempt to breathe filled her ears, loud and uneven, drowning out everything else. She forced herself to cough, then drag in a deep breath, but it caught halfway, like her lungs refused to work.

Sophia’s face flashed in her mind – baby-soft cheeks, wide eyes and the memory of her tiny hand curling around Carol’s finger during the quiet moments after she had given birth. The sight of Daryl cradling the newborn had split her open, spilling everything that she had fought to keep locked away. The ache of loss for Sophia, and for a child that she could never give Daryl hollowed her out until she had to bite her lip to stop the wail that was bubbling in her throat from escaping.

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, the concrete biting into her back through her thin shirt. She clutched at her chest, fingernails digging in as though she could scrape the pain out of herself. Shaking and gasping, she bent forward, pressing her forehead into her knees until pain bloomed behind her eyes.

“Breathe,” she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse and broken. “Just…breathe.”

But the air would not come steady. It sawed in and out of her throat, shallow and ragged, tears streaking down her face, salty droplets landing on the shiny fabric of her pants. Her body shook with the force of it, the panic rolling over her in waves until she felt wrung out.

Moments later, the door banged open, the hinges creaking loudly next to her. She flinched, instinctively curling inward as she heard his footsteps.

“Carol!”

Daryl dropped to his knees in front of her without hesitation, his hand hovering uncertainly before settling on her shoulder. She was shaking so hard he could feel it against his palm.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, his voice gentle. “What’s wrong? You hurt?”

She shook her head, but the motion only made the dizziness worse. A strangled sound escaped her, half a sob, half a breath she could not quite catch.

“I can’t–” she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “I can’t–breathe…”

“Okay. Okay. Slow down.” His tone shifted, firm and steady. “You’re alright. You’re safe. Just try to match me, yeah?”

He drew in a slow, deep breath and exaggerated it, his chest rising and then falling as he exhaled in front of her. She tried to follow, but the first attempt came out as a choked gulp. He stayed with her, murmuring low, steady words that barely registered through the pounding in her ears.

“Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ fine… right there, just like that.”

She focused on the sound of his voice that was gravelly and familiar and the panic began to creep back in for a moment when she remembered why she was so upset. He noticed instantly and took both of her hands in his, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles and gave them a gentle squeeze. She avoided his gaze, but the warmth of his hands helped her to calm down. 

Bit by bit, as she focused on his thumbs circling her skin in slow, steady circles, her breathing began to sync with his. The tremors still wracked her body, but air was moving through her lungs again.

When she finally managed a full breath, she sagged against the wall, spent. Her eyes were red and her face blotchy, but she could see him clearly now – see the worry etched deep into his features, his jaw tight as his eyes darted between her face and the rest of her like he was searching for visible wounds.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he muttered, giving her hands another gentle squeeze. “You just took off, an’ I…” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what happened.”

Carol shook her head again, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… saw you with the baby, and it…it hit me all at once.”

He stared at her for a moment, the understanding dawning slowly, softening the lines in his face and he let out a heavy sigh.

“Aw, hell,” he said quietly. “Shoulda known. I’m sorry, Carol.”

Her lips trembled, and she tried to smile, but it came out shaky. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

His eyes flicked down to the floor, then back up to her, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. Slowly, he lifted his hand and brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. She swallowed hard, her bottom lip trembling as she forced the words out.

“Along with Sophia, it reminded me that… I can’t give you that,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “I know it’s early days for us. But seeing how natural you are with kids -” she shook her head, blinking fast, “- it makes me feel like you’d be a great dad, that you’d want a family of your own. And I can’t make that happen. I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, Daryl just stared at her, the words hitting him like a punch he had not seen coming. His throat worked as he tried to swallow past the tightness there. “Carol…” he said quietly, but his voice caught, the single word too small for what he wanted to say. His hand hovered between them, fingers twitching before finally settling on her arm, hoping that his warmth seeping through her shirt would be soothing.

She dipped her head, hunching her shoulders as if the weight of it all were pressing her down. A quiet sob escaped before she could hold it in. “He… he took so much from me,” she whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. “My dignity. My strength. My friends. My family. Everyone who ever cared about me. He stripped it all away until there was nothing left. And he made me weak. He made me believe I was weak. That weakness…” she dragged in a shaking breath “…that weakness made Sophia weak. If I hadn’t been so weak, maybe she’d still be alive.”

Daryl’s chest ached at the sound of her voice, at the sheer pain behind every word. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she’d never been weak a day in her life, that she had survived when others had failed, but the words jammed in his throat. All he could do was pull her closer, his jaw tight as he pressed his forehead to hers, letting his silence say what he was unable to.

He stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing her in and feeling her tremble against him. His mind scrambled for the right words; something, anything, but everything that came to him felt clumsy and insignificant compared to what she had just given to him. So instead, he just held her tighter, one hand sliding to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair.

“Don’...don’t say that,” he finally managed, stuttering over the words awkwardly. “Don’t you ever say that again.” He pulled back just enough to see her face, his thumb brushing away another tear that had escaped. “You think you’re weak? Hell, Carol… I seen weak. You ain’t it. Not even close.”

Her lips parted, as if to argue, but he shook his head, cutting her off gently. “You been through more’n anyone should have to. And you’re still here. Still fightin’. You kept Sophia alive longer than most folks coulda in this world. You did that. You.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked away for a second, blinking several times. “Ain’t your fault what happened. Don’t ever blame yourself for that.”

The silence that followed was heavy but softer somehow. Carol’s tears slowed, her breathing uneven but beginning to steady. She lifted a hand to his chest, her fingers splaying against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the solid thud of his heart beneath.

“I wish I could believe that,” she whispered.

He caught her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, covering it with his own. “Then I’ll keep tellin’ you ‘til you do. Promise.”

Her eyes met his then, red-rimmed and a dull blue, but searching. There was something in his gaze that made her chest tighten: a quiet conviction that was steady and unflinching. Daryl didn’t make promises often, but when he did, she believed them.

He reached out again, his fingertips tracing along the curve of her jaw before resting against the side of her throat. “I know it's hard an’ you…you wanna give me what you think I want. But it ain't ‘bout havin’ kids or the perfect life. Jus’ havin’ you is enough for me.” He shrugged, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “Don't need all that other shit s'long as I got you.”

Her eyes filled with tears again, but for a different reason. They were born from relief instead of sadness. She leaned into him, and he held her, letting her cry into the space between them until her body went still and her breathing evened out.

When she finally looked up, the sadness in her eyes had eased, the blue irises brighter than before. He managed to give her a faint, crooked smile and leaned in to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Gonna be headin’ out on a run soon,” he murmured. “Need t’find more food, diapers… clothes for the baby. She got barely anythin’.”

Carol nodded, chewing her bottom lip for a moment before she spoke. “Can… can I come with you?” Her voice was cautious, but there was a thread of resolve beneath it.

Daryl’s response was immediate. “Nah.” He shook his head. “Not riskin’ it. Ain’t gonna let you get hurt or somethin’.”

She exhaled sharply and sat up a little straighter. “Daryl, I can handle myself. You’re the one who taught me how to shoot and use my knife. I’m not the same woman I was at the quarry, or even at the farm. You made sure of that.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth opening then closing again. His gaze darted away, jaw tightening as though he was chewing over every possible reason to say no.

“Please,” she said quietly. “You can’t keep me wrapped up in here. I need to do something. To help. I can help.”

Daryl huffed through his nose, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Ain’t ‘bout what you can do,” he muttered. “It’s ‘bout what could happen.”

Carol held his gaze. “Then we watch each other’s backs.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint growl of walkers at the fence. Then he let out a low sigh, defeated but still protective to the bone. “Fine,” he said at last. “But you stay close. No wanderin’ off.”

A small, triumphant smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

He shook his head, half exasperated, half proud, and muttered something under his breath that made her grin widen. 

XXXX

They headed back inside after going over the plan for the run. Carol kept her eyes down as she crossed through the common area, ignoring the curious looks that followed her. She was not ready to explain why she had left so suddenly before.

Back in her cell, she moved with quick efficiency. She traded her comfortable yoga pants for a pair of cargos, the fabric rough against her skin but familiar. From a small pile near her bunk, she gathered what she needed -  spare bullets, which she stuffed into one pocket, and the compact first aid kit into another. Her knife came next; she slid it into its sheath and clipped it to her belt until it rested against her hip. The weight of it grounded her, steady and solid. It reminded her of Daryl in a way she could not quite explain, but it was comforting.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she reached for her pistol and checked the chamber. Seeing it was fully loaded, she slid it into her holster, double-checked the safety, then grabbed an empty backpack from under her cot. After tightening her laces, she straightened, brushed the dust off her pants, and took a steadying breath before heading out.

When she reached Daryl’s cell, she stopped just outside the curtain and called softly, “Can I come in?”

There was a low grunt in response, muffled but unmistakably his.

She pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. He stood with his back to her, bare from the waist up, muscles shifting as he reached for his shirt. For a moment she froze. The scars that marked his back were worse than she had imagined - pale ridges and deep welts that caught the weak light. She had only ever traced them with her fingertips, but seeing them in front of her made her throat tight.

“Hey,” she managed to choke out.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he turned at the sound, tugging his shirt over his head. “Hey. You all ready to go?”

Carol nodded, forcing a small, steady smile even as her chest ached. “Sure am.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes flicking between hers as though he was memorising her face. Then, before she could say anything, he stepped forward and cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing tenderly over her bottom lip. 

“Promise me you won’t do nothin’ stupid out there, alright? Gonna be on edge the whole damn time. Hate the idea of you comin’ with me.” His voice was rough and anxious as his eyes searched hers, desperate for reassurance.

Carol’s expression softened at the crack in his tone. “I promise,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of his thumb. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

He nodded once, drawing in a shaky breath before leaning in. The moment their lips met, it was all feeling. It was like he was pouring every ounce of fear, want, and love into her. The intensity of it made her dizzy, her fingers curling tight into his shirt just to keep her balance. She let out a quiet whimper, and tugged him closer, her teeth catching his bottom lip before she soothed it with her tongue. His breath hitched, a low grunt rumbling from his chest as he steadied her face in his hands.

He pulled back after a moment. just enough to breathe her in. The scent of something he could not place filled the space around them - but it was familiar because it was Carol. Neither of them spoke, frozen as they tried to memorize the moment. He had kissed her like a man who was unsure if he would get another chance. Going on a run always came with risks, and he could give his life to protect her, but there were never any guarantees.

Carol lifted her chin, chasing his mouth again before she could think better of it. The taste of cigarettes lingered on his lips, bitter and familiar, and she swallowed it down as she tightened her grip on his shirt, dragging him closer. His breath was warm and uneven against her cheek for a moment, and when his mouth moved over hers again, everything else slipped away.

The kiss was not clean or practiced; it was messy and hungry, the kind that made her knees threaten to give out. Her heart hammered so hard it hurt, but she did not care. All she could feel was him; the rough scrape of his stubble, the press of his calloused hands and the quiet rumble of his breath when she kissed him harder.

Daryl cursed softly against her lips, a low sound that sent a shiver down her spine. Then he slowed, his mouth moving over hers with deliberate care, tasting her, taking his time. He deepened the kiss once more, slow and lingering, before pulling back just enough to look at her. Her eyes opened and she gave him a shy smile, her fingers still curled in his shirt. She did not want to let go. But she could not ignore the small, inevitable pull of reality creeping back in.

Daryl’s hands slid down to her shoulders, his palms squeezing once before he forced himself to step back. The space between them felt too wide, too cold and she longed to be pressed against him once again.

“Gotta get movin’ ‘fore it's too late,” he muttered, his voice a little unsteady.

Carol nodded, though her throat was tight. She could still feel the imprint of his mouth, and still taste the smoke and warmth of him.

“Yeah,” she managed, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “Let’s go.”

He hesitated for another second, long enough to memorize every freckle and line on her face, then turned away his jaw set. She watched him for a heartbeat before following, the ghost of his kiss still burning against her lips.

Chapter Text

After about an hour on the road in Hershel’s old truck, they arrived in Newnan and pulled into a shopping center called Ashley Park. As they turned into the lot, Carol spotted a faded red Target sign hanging crooked over the entrance and pointed toward it. “Let’s check there, if it’s clear,” she said.

Daryl parked as close to the doors as he could and killed the engine. The sudden quiet was heavy after the constant hum of the truck.

“It’s weird seeing you drive a truck,” She said, turning toward him with a small smile. “I’m used to your bike.”

The sunlight coming through the windshield caught her hair, turning it nearly white. Her eyes were bright blue and sharp against her tanned skin, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbones. For a second, he just stared, still in disbelief that someone like her had chosen him.

“Ain’t the same as ridin’ my bike,” he muttered once he was out of his little trance, shrugging. “But we need the space for haulin’ stuff back.” He lifted his hand and started chewing at his thumb cuticle without thinking.

She reached over, fingers circling his wrist, and gently pulled his hand down. “Don’t do that,” she said softly. “What’s making you nervous?” Her thumb brushed over the raw spot where he had been biting.

He exhaled through his nose, not meeting her eyes, his shoulders hunched. “Just worried ‘bout what we’re walkin’ into. Could be a shit ton of walkers in there.”

“If there is, we get the hell out and find somewhere else,” Her hand stayed on his wrist for a second longer before she let go.

Nodding, he climbed out of the truck. He leaned back in to grab his crossbow from behind the seat, then slammed the door shut with a metallic thud.

Carol was already outside, scanning the building with a hand raised to block the glare of the sun. “It sounds quiet enough to me,” she said. “Hopefully we’ll get lucky.”

He grunted in response. “Stay behind me.”

As he started forward, her eyes followed the movement of his shoulders, the stretch and pull of muscle beneath his shirt as he adjusted the crossbow strap. She caught herself staring before she shook it off, jogging a few steps to close the distance between them.

As they approached the long dead automatic doors, Carol could see that the glass was smeared with dirt and old handprints. Without giving her time to contemplate what had happened, Daryl managed to slide one open just enough for them to slip through. The hinges groaned, loud in the quiet, and both of them froze, listening for any signs of movement, but it was deadly silent. Just the faint hum of wind moving through the empty lot.

Inside, the air was stale and thick, carrying the scent of rot and dust. The light from outside barely reached past the entrance, leaving most of the centre in shadow. Broken tiles crunched under their boots as they stepped in, weapons ready.

Carol moved close behind him, her gun raised, as she scanned the storefronts that lined the main walkway. A children’s clothing store sat to the left, mannequins toppled and half-buried in debris. To the right, was a darkened salon with chairs overturned and dried stains on the floor.

“Target’s deeper in,” she whispered. Her voice sounded too loud, even though it was barely above a breath.

Daryl did not reply, lifting his hand for her to stop while he listened out. Somewhere in the distance, a metal sign creaked. Then silence.

They kept moving, ensuring to keep their steps as silent as they could. Every scrape of a boot or the rustle of fabric seemed amplified in the silent building. Daryl’s grip tightened on his crossbow, the muscles in his forearm tense as a wire.

When they turned a corner, the dim outline of the Target sign came into view down the walkway, half the letters missing. The entrance was wide open, shadows pooling inside like water.

Carol swallowed hard. “Looks clear,” she said, though she did not sound convinced.

“Clear don’t mean safe,” He muttered in response. He crouched slightly, peering through the gloom before motioning for her to follow.

They stepped inside the store. The air was cooler and heavier but still filled with the stench of rot and decay. Empty shelves stretched out in every direction, and items that they could barely make out were strewn everywhere. Before they could move any further, something shifted somewhere deeper in the aisles, a soft scrape, like a shoe against tile.

She pulled back the hammer on her gun instantly. Daryl froze, his eyes narrowing. The silence that followed was worse than the noise.

He took a slow step forward. “Stay close,” he said quietly.

They moved carefully between the aisles, checking each corner before stepping out. The deeper into the store they went, the thicker the air was, heavy with dust that coated their tongues. Somewhere nearby, another sign began to swing lightly on its hinge, tapping against metal with a dull, hollow rhythm.

Daryl motioned for Carol to stop and tilted his head toward the far end of the aisle as he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps resume from the next row over. He lifted his crossbow and took a step forward.

Carol followed close, taking her knife out of the sheath. As they got closer, the smell of the walker hit, sour and rotten, curling in her throat. 

They turned the corner just as the walker stumbled into view. It had been a man once, now hollow-eyed and half-rotted, skin grey and pulled tight across its skull. The moment it saw them, it let out a low, guttural snarl and lurched forward.

Daryl fired, missing the walker's head as it lunged for him. The two of them crashed into a shelf, the metal rattling under their weight. He grunted, trying to push it off, the crossbow caught between them.

“Daryl!” Carol’s voice cracked as she rushed forward.

She grabbed the walker by the collar, yanking it backward with all her strength as Daryl slid down to the floor, winded. Its head snapped toward her, teeth clacking inches from her arm. Her gun clattered to the floor when she drove the knife into its skull, hard and fast, pushing through the resistance of bone and flesh. The sound was thick and wet, and the body went limp, sliding down between them.

Before it even hit the floor, Carol dropped to her knees beside him.

“You okay?” Her voice shook as she reached for him, her hands running over his shoulders and arms, searching for blood or a bite. “Did it get you?”

Daryl caught her wrist, his chest still rising and falling hard. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to catch his breath.

Her fingers trembled against his face, brushing over his jaw and cheek, needing to see for herself. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said again, meeting her eyes. “Ain’t bit.”

She let out a shaky breath and looked him over once more, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush.

He glanced down at the body next to them. “That was close.”

“Too close,” she murmured, wiping her knife on her pants before standing.

He pushed himself up beside her, reloading the crossbow with steady hands. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

Carol nodded and stepped over the corpse, her hand brushing his arm for a second longer than necessary before she regained her composure. 

As she scanned the dim aisles around them, her eyes caught on a door tucked against the side wall, half-hidden behind a collapsed display stand. “Maybe that’s a storage room or something,” she said, picking her gun up before pointing toward it.

Daryl followed her line of sight, frowning. “Ain't sure we should risk it. Could be a bunch of ‘em packed in there.” His gaze swept the area, every shadow making him twitch with nerves that another walker would lunge for them. He had felt so helpless in that moment when the walker pinned him against the shelving.

She stepped closer, keeping her voice steady to reason with him. “If there are, we’ll have the advantage. We can block the doorway and take them out one at a time. They won’t be able to push through.” She glanced back at the door. “And if it’s clear, there could be supplies in there. Maybe a lot.”

He looked at her, the muscles in his forearms tense as his grip on the crossbow tightened. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “We’ll check, but if there’s too many, we get the hell out and barricade that door behind us.”

Nodding, she smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling back. The brief contact grounded her more than she expected after the close call they had just had with the walker. She slid her gun back into the holster, opting to use her knife instead, the metal warm against her knuckles and palm. It would be faster than aiming and firing if something came at them.

They moved toward the door, keeping close to the wall. The light from outside barely reached that far, leaving the corners thick with endless, swirling darkness. Their footsteps were slow and measured, the only sound in the empty store apart from the sign that was still swinging.

Daryl stopped a few feet away and held up a hand for her to stay back. He tilted his head, listening for any signs of movement. When he heard nothing, he let out the breath he had been holding.

They worked together to drag the half-collapsed display stand out of the way, muscles straining with each pull. The metal frame groaned across the tile, the sound sharp and grating enough to make both of them grit their teeth. Daryl tightened his grip, lifting one end just high enough to stop it from screeching, and Carol pushed from the other side, her arms shaking with the effort.

When they finally shifted it far enough to clear the doorway, both of them were breathing hard. Sweat beaded along Daryl’s temple, and Carol wiped her forearm across her brow, their shirts sticking to their skin from exertion and the tension of keeping quiet.

After grabbing his crossbow, Daryl reached for the door handle, his fingers curling around the cold metal. Carol stayed behind him with her knife raised, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. Her heartbeat picked up, thundering in her ears and she swallowed down the nauseous feeling that was rising in her throat.

He gave the handle a slow twist, testing it. The latch clicked, sharp in the quiet, but the door did not move. “Locked.” He muttered, trying again whilst pushing his shoulder against it, and the old mechanism gave with a dull snap.

The door creaked open an inch.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She replied, tightening her grip on the knife.

He pushed the door wider with his shoulder, keeping the crossbow raised, the darkness beyond swallowing the thin light behind them.

When he realised that he could not see in front of him, Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. He clicked it on, the beam cutting through the darkness in a narrow white cone. Dust motes drifted in the air, turning slowly in the light as he stepped inside.

The room stretched wider than either of them expected, shelves running the length of the walls and stacked high with supplies. Carol blinked, almost in disbelief. There were boxes of wipes, diapers, baby clothes, canned food, bottled water, and rows of first aid kits still sealed in plastic.

“Holy hell,” Daryl muttered, lowering the crossbow slightly. “Ain’t seen this much stuff in one place for a long time.”

She took a few cautious steps forward, her eyes scanning everything. “This could keep everyone set for weeks,” she said quietly.

Then her boot brushed against something on the floor. She looked down and froze as he aimed the flashlight beam at her feet. Empty food packets were scattered everywhere, torn open and flattened as if someone had gone through them in a hurry. Dried stains marked the tiles around them that looked like blood.

Her stomach tightened. “Someone’s been here.”

Clenching his jaw, Daryl swung the flashlight beam back across the room, following the trail of discarded wrappers toward the far corner. The light caught movement – a small twitch, followed by a soft growl.

“Hold up,” he said quietly, raising the crossbow again, balancing the flashlight.

They moved closer, careful and slow. The light fell across four figures slumped against the wall. All of them were female, their wrists and ankles bound with lengths of old rope. Their skin was grey, mouths slack and moving in slow, hungry motions as their eyes glinted in the beam, milky and unfocused.

Carol’s breath caught. “They were tied up,” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she struggled to comprehend what was in front of her. “Someone left them like this.” Her hands shook as she swallowed several times against the bile that she could feel rising. 

Daryl stepped closer, keeping the crossbow trained on them. “Looks that way.” His voice was quiet, but his expression had hardened. “Guess they didn’t make it out.”

The four walkers strained weakly against their ropes, the sound of their teeth clicking in the still air. She stared for a moment longer, her knife tightly gripped in her hand.

“What do we do with them?” Her voice was as shaky as her hands. Daryl adjusted his aim, focusing on one of the walkers. “We put them down. Ain’t right leavin’ them like that.”

Lowering herself to her knees, she steadied her hand as she held the knife level with the first walker’s temple. Her throat tightened as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry someone did this to you,” she whispered. Then she pushed the blade down, the sound of it cutting through flesh and bone echoing in the quiet room.

The walker slumped instantly, its body relaxing for the first time in who knew how long. Carol exhaled shakily and pulled the knife free, wiping the blade on her pants.

Since the fall, she had stopped letting herself think about what the walkers used to be. Spouses, friends, mothers, fathers. They had lived and felt and feared, and most of them had died a horrible death. Looking at the four women tied up struck a nerve and she bowed her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She stayed there for a moment, lost in her thoughts, until she realized the room had gone completely quiet. Daryl had already taken care of the other walkers. When she turned her head toward him, the flashlight caught her face, the weak beam glinting off the tear track on her cheek.

He lowered his crossbow, watching her in the dim light. The tightness around his eyes softened when he saw more tears brimming and her solemn expression. He stepped closer, careful not to startle her, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“You did what you had to,” he said quietly. “Ain’t on you.”

She did not look at him right away, her eyes locked on the bodies. “Nobody deserves this,” she murmured. “Tied up like that, left to starve and then turn…” Her voice trailed off as she drew in a shaky breath.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder gently, then let go, giving her space.

After a few seconds, she blinked hard, pushing the emotions down. She wiped the back of her hand across her face and straightened up. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier. “We need to get moving. No point standing around feeling sorry for them.”

He studied her for a moment but did not argue. He just nodded.

“We should start collecting what we can carry. I’ll see if I can find a shopping cart or something to haul it out with.”

“Alright,” His voice was gruff and quiet, still in disbelief that she was okay. “I’ll look through this stuff, see what we can take.”

She gave a short nod and started toward the front of the storeroom, taking her own flashlight out, her movements brisk and focused. The emotional weight from moments before was still there, buried under the surface, but she had already switched back into survival mode.

The flashlight flickered the moment she switched it on. Sighing heavily, she gave the side a quick smack, muttering under her breath. It was the worst time for the batteries to start dying, and she did not have the patience for anything to go wrong. She hit it a few more times until the beam steadied, then exhaled in relief and stepped out of the storeroom.

She moved quickly and quietly through the aisles, the light from the flashlight sliding over shelves stripped bare. Torn packaging and crushed cans littered the floor. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and sticky puddles of spilled drinks made her weave her way around like she was walking through a maze. They had barely had time to look around when they entered before they were ambushed by the walker. 

After a few minutes of searching amidst the mess, frustration started to build in her chest. She was about to turn back when something glinted in the dark at the far end of the store. Tilting the flashlight, she saw the dull shine of metal – a shopping cart that was half-hidden in the shadows.

Tightening her grip on the flashlight, she started toward the cart. The closer she got, the darker it felt and the harder it was to breathe. The darkness was oppressive and she saw the beam from the flashlight tremble as her hand shook. 

When she was halfway there, a soft noise came from somewhere to her left. She froze, holding her breath. It was faint, just a shuffle or maybe something falling and it stopped as quickly as it started. She swept the flashlight across the aisles, the beam bouncing off broken shelves and smashed jars, but saw nothing.

“Probably just a rat,” she muttered under her breath, though she was not entirely convinced.

Her heartbeat picked up, but she pushed forward, forcing her focus on the cart ahead. The metal frame was rusted in spots, one of the wheels slightly bent, but it looked usable. She reached it and gave it a small push to test it out. The squeak that followed was sharp and piercing, echoing through the empty store.

Immediately, she froze again, wincing and straining to listen for any sign of movement over the ringing in her ears, but the silence that followed was reassuring. She slowly turned her head, sweeping the flashlight across the aisles again.

When nothing moved, she blew out a slow breath through her nose and muttered, “Alright, let’s get this done,” before gripping the handle.

The cart’s uneven wheel squeaked every few steps as she pushed it through the wreckage, gritting her teeth at each sound. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her flashlight beam darting across the aisles to make sure nothing was following her. By the time she reached the storeroom door again, her shoulders were tight with tension.

She slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind her, letting out a slow breath she had not realized she had been holding.

Daryl looked up from where he was going through the boxes on the shelves. The beam from his flashlight caught her face for just a second, and he frowned. “You good?” he asked, lowering the light.

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly. Her voice was tight, her hands gripping the cart handle so hard that her knuckles were white.

He studied her for a moment, noticing the tightness in her voice. “Somethin’ happen out there?”

Shaking her head, she forced a small, tired smile. “No. Just… thought I heard something, that’s all.” She gave the cart a quick shove forward. “Found this. Should make it easier to take stuff out to the truck.”

He watched her for another few seconds before giving a short nod. “Alright. Let’s fill it and get movin’.”

She nodded back and crouched beside one of the lower shelves, reaching for a box of diapers. Her hands were steadier, but her heart still had not completely slowed. As he loaded the first aid kits into the cart, he kept glancing over at her. She was going through the baby supplies, checking labels and pulling out what looked useful in an efficient and totally Carol way, but he could tell her mind was somewhere else.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, lowering a tray of cans into the cart with a dull clang.

She tore open a box that was labelled ‘sleepsuits’, the crinkling plastic breaking the silence as she pulled a pack out. After a moment, she straightened up and brought them over. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “Stop worrying. This place just gives me the creeps, that’s all.”

Her voice was calm and steady, and left no room for argument. She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned, but I promise I’m fine.”

His expression softened before he reached out and cupped her cheek, turning her head toward him. His thumb brushed along her skin before he kissed her, slow and gentle, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he pulled back.

They went back to work without saying much. The cart filled quickly, the metal rattling softly as Daryl stacked supplies on top of one another. Carol packed diapers, wipes, more baby clothes, bottles and some formula just in case Lori struggled to breastfeed. 

When the cart was full, she crouched down and began stuffing smaller items into her pack like bandages, antiseptic wipes, some soup packets, and a few cans that would fit snugly around the edges. Daryl did the same and slung the pack onto his back. The old straps creaked as he cinched them tight.

“Should be enough,” he said, straightening up and glancing toward the door.

Carol gave the cart a final look. “Yeah. Let’s get it back to the truck before something decides to show up.” He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, then moved to take the front of the cart as she positioned herself behind it to help steer. The cart let out a low squeal as the wheels started to turn, echoing faintly off the walls.

They pushed it slowly toward the exit, both listening for any sound beyond their own movements. When they reached the door leading out to the main floor, Daryl paused, glancing over at her. “You ready?”

She smiled, tightening her grip on the cart handle. “Let’s go.”

XXXX

The sunlight hit them like a shock after the dim, stale air inside as they left the shopping centre. Carol squinted and breathed in the fresh air, the faint scent of pine from the trees surrounding the parking lot replacing the stench that clung to the inside of the building. As they walked to the truck, the lot was silent except for the hum of insects somewhere off in the distance.

“Looks clear,” Daryl said, scanning the area before gesturing in front of them with his head.

They worked quickly, loading the supplies into the back. Daryl lifted the heavier boxes while Carol stacked the smaller items so they would not shift around during the drive. Once everything was packed, she leaned against the side of the truck, brushing the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe away the sweat.

“That went better than expected,” she said, her tone calm but edged with relief.

“Yeah,” He replied, shutting the tailgate with a firm thud. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“It was a successful first run for me. I’m just glad we got this much,” Her smile was soft and a little crooked as the sunlight caught her eyes, bringing out every shade of blue in them.

Daryl stepped closer, resting one hand against the truck to steady himself as he leaned in. “You did good,” he said quietly. “You can be my partner on the next one.”

Letting out a quiet laugh, she tilted her head up to meet his lips. The kiss was slow and warm, her fingers catching the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

The kiss deepened naturally with the kind of pull neither of them had to think about. His hand slid from the side of the truck to her hip, his fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her shirt as he drew her closer. She sighed against his mouth, the sound soft and unguarded, her grip tightening on his shirt until the material bunched between her fingers.

When he reached up and caught her chin in his hand, she leaned into his touch, her skin warm beneath his rough palm. Her own hand trailed up along his forearm and wrist, feeling the tension in his muscles as she met his gaze for a brief second before his mouth was on hers again.

This time, the kiss was less restrained. His thumb brushed along her jaw as he tilted her head slightly and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Carol responded instantly, matching him with hunger, her fingers curling around the back of his arm to steady herself.

She arched against him, a soft hum leaving her throat as she felt the heat of his body through his clothes. The closeness ignited her need for him, a throbbing pulse between her thighs that made it hard to think about anything else. She knew it was reckless, to be making out in the open parking lot when walkers could appear at any time, but the thought slipped away as quickly as it came. All she could focus on was him, the way he kissed her and how it made her feel.

Backing up just enough to get her balance, she let the hand clutching his shirt slide downward, over the flat plane of his stomach and to the waistband of his pants. Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, nails scraping lightly against his skin. He shuddered and let out a low groan, his teeth catching her bottom lip before he suddenly stopped, breathing hard.

He pulled back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. “We can’t,” he said roughly, his voice strained.

Carol’s breathing was still uneven as she looked up at him, her lips swollen and glistening lips from the kiss. She cleared her throat, her voice quiet and uncertain. “We…we could… sit in the truck for a bit,” she said, the words coming out softer than she meant them to. There was no mistaking what she was suggesting, even if she could not bring herself to say it outright.

Daryl looked at her, his expression torn. He let out a slow breath and stepped back, running a hand over his face before tugging at the front of his jeans in a quick, awkward motion to hide his obvious erection. “Ain’t a good idea,” he muttered. “Should get back to the prison ‘fore it gets dark.”

The shift in his tone was like a splash of cold water in her face. She blinked, the warmth she had felt only seconds before, suddenly draining away. She gave a small nod, trying to hide her disappointment behind a faint smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

He did not meet her eyes as he opened the truck door and climbed in. She stood for a moment longer, staring at the cracked pavement before she walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and climbed into the truck. Confusion lingered in her head, tangled up with the ache he had left behind.

XXXX

The ride back was quiet, only the hum and growl of the engine filling the truck cab. Neither of them spoke as the prison came into view, the sun low in the sky and casting a dull orange glow across the fields.

As they pulled up to the first gate, Carol leaned forward, her stomach twisting when she noticed part of the fence was down, some walkers trapped beneath the chain link. “Daryl,” she said, her voice low but urgent.

He saw it too. More walkers were inside the fence, scattered across the courtyard and pressing in on Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and Maggie. Not only had the fence caved in at the first gate, but there was another section at the second gate, the posts bent and half buried under the bodies pushing through.

“Shit,” he muttered, throwing the truck into park. He grabbed his crossbow, yanked open the door, and jumped out. Carol was right behind him, knife already in hand.

They pulled the gate open just enough to slip inside, before running to join them, cutting down a pair of stragglers on the way. Daryl reloaded and took aim, his bolt dropping a walker that was closing in on Glenn’s flank. Carol bolted and grabbed one that was trying to claw at Maggie who was standing on top of a table who quickly nodded her thanks as Carol took it down. 

Rick glanced over his shoulder, sweat and dirt streaking his face. “Good timing!” he shouted, swinging his axe against another skull.

“Must’ve been too many pushin’ from the outside.” Daryl called back.

“Once we clear them, we’ll get it reinforced,” Rick said, gritting his teeth as he shoved another corpse aside.

Carol stabbed another walker through the eye, twisting the blade before pulling it free. Her breathing was hard and fast, but her focus never wavered. Daryl took down another one near the fence, muttering a curse under his breath when he saw the rest of the walkers changing direction.

Rick straightened up, looking around at the mess. “Where are they goin’?” he asked, confused and exhaling sharply. “We need to find out and sort the fence.”

Carol wiped her blade on her sleeve. “We’ll help,” she said simply, glancing at Daryl. He grunted in agreement, already scanning the fence line again.

Before anyone could make another move, the prison doors burst open and Carl came running into the courtyard, his face pale and frantic.

“Dad!” he called out, his voice rising in panic. “You’ve got to see this!”

Rick spun toward him. “What is it, Carl?”

Carl skidded to a halt, out of breath. “I went down to the tombs to the other entrance. The walkers…they started coming inside. The tombs are already overrun.”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “Fuck. How many we talkin’ ‘bout?”

Carl swallowed hard. “Too many for the door to the tombs to hold. But I got Beth to make sure everyone else was locked in their cells so they're safe.”

Maggie stepped closer, wiping her hands on her pants. “Good thinking,” she said, though her eyes were sharp with worry. “That buys us some time.”

Glenn stepped closer. “We need to get down to the tombs and get rid of the walkers,” he said, gripping his crowbar tightly. Carol’s gaze flicked to Daryl, concern etched across her features as he wiped his retrieved bolts free of walker blood on his pants.

Rick clenched his fists, staring toward the prison doors. “Alright. Everyone, let's go. We stop this before it gets worse.”

Carl took a deep breath and ran back toward the doors. “I'm gonna go get my gun. Beth’s keeping everyone in their cells,” he reminded them. “Just hurry!”

The group followed Carl inside and through the gates to the cells, their boots pounding against the concrete flooring. Beth joined them, her face pale as she handed Carl’s gun back to him with a tight, grim smile. Carol drew her own gun from its holster, the click of the hammer snapping into place echoing faintly in the quiet space. The tension in the air thickened as they moved quickly through the prison corridors toward the entrance to the tombs, each of them bracing for whatever waited ahead.