I've had this idea for a while and decided to flesh it out. Any feedback is appreciated – been a while since I've written anything for fanfic and I'm both a little nervous and excited to be back!

Summary:
Long before the world went to hell, her world was already hell. Long shifts, late nights, strange men… And he had rescued her from it. It had been 5 years since she had last seen Daryl, and amidst the world collapsing around her, finding him again brought everything back in focus. Is it too late? And how would he take finding out the whole story? Earns its M rating straight away MATURE. DarylOC

The summary will evolve I imagine as I continuing working this thing out

Any suggestions for what would make a better summary (should it be more specific about her character?), just let me know – that's my biggest struggle!

Chapter 1: The Past is Just the Past

-Eight Years Ago-

The repetitive music pulsated through the dimly lit room, hiding both the spectators and the performers from illumination. She never felt like she wanted to be made fully visible anyway, too much to hide. Too much shame. Her eyes, looking but never seeing, were directly above the bar opposite the stage, recounting the bottles lining the shelves to pass the time. '14, 15,…' she thought, never paying attention to the hungry eyes, the musty scent almost visibly fogging the air itself. She had learned to tune them out over the past few months, letting one thudding club song fade into the next without much thought. It made it easier.

Her three song set was ending, so she threw in one last slow slide down the spinning pole, ending in a practiced split, deciding to throw in a half-hearted wink for an extra pop. A few wolf whistles rang in her ears, bringing her back to reality from her safe zone far away from these dingy lights and thirsty looks. She stood slowly, gathering the bills scattered on the stage and gingerly snatching her bra from the floor. Turning around, she made her way to the small area designated as backstage.

"Pretty good crowd tonight, huh?" She looked up to see Remmy peeking around at the crowd as best she could in the stage lighting, a smirk gracing her features. She smiled slightly at Remmy, genuinely grateful to see the older woman. Remmy had just celebrated her 4th 29th birthday and was determined to be 29 until the day she dropped dead. She was, however, drop dead gorgeous- all Amazonian legs, exotically tan with a thick curtain of dark shiny hair cascading over her strong shoulders. She was part latina as best her guess- Remmy didn't know who her father was to confirm and her mother was white. Or white trash as she liked to phrase it. "You do good?" She asked her with a fixed stare, as Remmy was partially curious how her friend has fared for selfish reasons – she wanted to know what to expect from the crowd – but also because she was also concerned. Remmy smiled, eyeing a few bigger bills gathered from the stage, "Looks like you did alright to me, Candace."

Candace nodded, counting out a pretty decent sum from her three song set. "Not a bad haul," she agreed quietly. Remmy clapped her on the shoulder, hearing her own set starting up, and passed her by to make her way to the center stage. Candace watched her go, before turning to the small dressing room for the girls off to the side. Thankfully, no one was inside at the moment – it was 11 o'clock on a Friday night and she suspected most girls were out on the floor enticing men into private lap dances since that was how they made the most of their money anyway.

She analyzed herself in the mirror. She was much shorter than her friend, topping at a few inches above 5 feet – though her five inch heels certainly helped. Bright green eyes, popping from a heavy application of smoky makeup, sought her out in her reflection, partially hidden by a long sheet of wavy blonde hair. She had let it grow almost all the way down her back now, though the work sometimes made the long hair a hassle. Though she was no amazon, she had a pleasing figure – hell, she hadn't gotten this gig because she was unattractive. Supple curves, accentuated by the daring lingerie set she had worn this evening, kept the clients coming in, kept food on her table. She wasn't a whore, though a lot of the girls participate in those activities, but she certainly wasn't hiding her body.

She used to cry, and cry a lot. When she and her parents had their fights, she never expected them to throw her out. Never. She was only 16 when she was out on her own, and she remembered cursing her heartless stepfather, and her delusional mother, zombied out on whatever painkillers she had gotten her hands on. Scared, alone, and with nothing, Candace had searched for a job with a desperation that bordered on painful. Waiting tables didn't bring in nearly enough to afford rent anywhere, let alone all the other things – food, electricity, water… Things she hadn't thought about when she lived at home. Well, with her parents. Home was too strong a word for the place that made her miserable for as long as she could remember.

She had lied to get the job here, being only 17. She had told the leering manager that she was 18 to get the job. She had heard about it from a girl who had been waiting tables with her – Amanda. Amanda worked a few nights a week at Blue Moon on the fringe of the town Candace had ended up in a year later. Apparently, she made more there a few nights a week than working every day at the diner. Candace figured it was better than starving and she needed a permanent place to stay rather than the week-by-week extended stay hotel that had been consuming well over 90% of her income.

It had been a few months since then, and her 18th birthday was approaching fast. She was anxious for it to come, just in case someone ever did any checking into her – though she doubted anyone would look into this hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere town of nobodies. She sighed, trying to clear her head. She had to get back out there and make some real money.

Fixing her hair with shaking fingers, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own eyes. "Candace. You can do this. You've been doing this. Nothing surprises you. Nothing scares you. Get out there." She told herself, getting pepped for going out there – can't have a surly personality or no personality and expect to attract customers. Most of the girls did dabs of coke in the bathroom, giggly and loud, but she couldn't bring herself to. She'd seen more than enough of strippers thrown out on their ass for being addicts who couldn't handle their addictions.

She made her way out of the room, turning down the hall that lead to the main part of the club rather than the backstage area. Putting her work smile on her face, she walked out into the main room.

"Hey there, sweetheart," cooed an older man sitting at a table to her left. She looked over at him. Wearing a comfortable grin, much like a wolf spotting a juicy piece of prey, he puffed away on his cigarette. He had blue eyes, framed by crow's feet giving away his older age along with a high forehead and very short hair, but his relaxed stance showed him as very comfortable in the strip club. A usual perhaps. She guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties. He gestured her over with a hand, "come say hi to ole Merle, why don'tcha?" He grinned even wider, flashing surprisingly pearly white teeth at her.

She put on her best smile and made her way over to the table. He pointed a finger at himself, "I'm Merle," and then pointed to the man sitting next to him, "and this is my baby brother, Daryl. He's not too good with ladyfolk, ya see?" He sniggered at his own joke.

She eyed the man sitting next to him. Almost a polar opposite to his older brother's relaxed stance, Daryl had a tight posture, a small frown etched on his younger face. A light scattering of messy brown-blonde hair in a shortish cut was all she could really see in the dark. She figured him at his late twenties, if she had to guess. But he too was smoking a cirgarette, the butt glowing orange as he inhaled. He didn't even look up at her.

"Hi there, Merle," she started, with a practiced voice, "and Daryl. Welcome to Blue Moon!" She threw in a wink, hoping that this Merle character had her rent in his pocket, ready for her to get out of him. She leaned in closer, "What can I do for ya, Merle?" She spoke more quietly, using the lean and the quieter voice to imply privacy, hoping to entice him to ask for a private dance. She could easily make a couple hundred off of a good dance.

His wolfish grin widened even further, something she hadn't really thought possible. "Oh no, sugar. This ain't about ole Merle, ya see? I told ya my baby brother ain't too good with the ladies. Think ya can give him a private lesson?" He winked at her, nudging Daryl in the ribs. Daryl looked up at his words, flashing a glance at Merle, something like anger flitting across his face.

He scoffed, "Ain't got no need for this shit, Merle. Told ya that!" He snapped. She thought he might be embarrassed, but didn't really know him well enough to tell. She internally sighed – she could really use the money and if they weren't going to use her time productively, she'd need to go find another client who would.

"Come now, little brother. You telling me this fine piece of ass," he paused to take an exaggeratedly long up-and-down at Candace, stopping here and there a few extra moments to appreciate her assets, "ain't pretty enough for ya? You look good enough to eat, sugartits." He told her, his voice still light. "You don't want to offend this sweet little thing, now do ya?" He paused, pulling out his wallet, "A little young for me, but I reckon she just about right for you, baby brother. Unless," he paused looking at Daryl, "ya ain't man enough!" Daryl snorted, still hunched over his drink tensely. "Come on now, we just got back, got some cash to burn, and I sure as hell didn't come here just to view the scenery. Come on, now!" He pulled out a few bills, handing them to Candace.

Once Daryl had seen the money leave Merle's hand and go to Candace's he pushed up from his chair. "Well if ya already paid her, guess I got to, don't I?" He said, definitely pissed. Candace hesitated a moment, not really comfortable with taking the angry stranger into a private booth.

"Don't scare the girl, Darylina!" teased Merle causing Daryl's head to snap up at the girlish nickname, "or she won't treat ya nice!"

At that, at least, Daryl seemed to realize that Candace was standing right there in front of them both, her pretty green eyes trained on him. He froze again, before sighing, draining the rest of his beer, and nodding for her to lead him to wherever they were going to go.

"Follow me, Daryl," she smiled at him before taking off, throwing her hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes. Most of the guys around here loved a little flirting thrown in. Looking more unsure of himself by the second, Daryl awkwardly followed Candace to the row of curtains against the wall. They were thick and heavy and dark, surprisingly sound proof, giving the people inside privacy. She led him to the seventh of eight on the side their table had been, holding open the curtain for him to go in first. The booth was small, but had a lot of seating room. Arranged in a semi circle of comfy, worn in leather, it sat in front of a small round table. The curtain closed it all off. Daryl sat uncomfortably in the middle of the leather seating, looking more and more tense by the moment.

"You act like you never had a lap dance before," teased Candace, hoping to use some small talk and humor to diffuse the tension radiating off of her newest client. He looked up from his careful study of the table in front of him, and she noticed his piercing blue eyes. They were just so blue, she couldn't look away. Beautiful was too pretty a word for the man in front her, all hard edges and rough lines, but she thought it anyway. He was scruffy, but he was beautiful staring at her with his unreadable blue eyes.

He scoffed, turning away quickly, and she noted the light reddening of his neck and cheeks – telltale signs of embarrassment. 'Oh,' she thought. "Well, that's okay. How about I tell you what I usually do, and you tell me what you want?" She suggested, softening from her work tone to her normal, softspoken voice. He looked almost like a frightened animal, like one wrong move would scare him away. He said nothing, but shrugged a noncommittal agreement.

"Normally," she said softly, slowly pulling herself into his lap, straddling one leg per side and sinking slowly against him, "I do a little dance to introduce myself…" She trailed off purposefully, using the trail off to grind into his hips just a little bit, testing out how he would respond. His breath sucked in almost involuntarily, and she found his hands slowly sliding up the soft skin of her outer thighs to the delicious curve of her hips, his eyes moving with his hands and continuing till they met her gaze. She waited patiently for him to finish his appraisal, waiting for him with a small, almost shy smile. Most men didn't look at her like this. She knew she was attractive, sexy, hot… But the look he gave her was like she was beautiful, like he was in surprise that she was sitting here in his lap and he was just allowed to touch her.

Deciding to help him, she ground herself into him again, applying a little more pressure as she experimentally rolled her hips, causing him to grab harder into her hips with a small groan, so soft she wouldn't have heard it if she wasn't focusing her every fiber on his reaction. This wasn't like other dances. He wasn't like other clients. His hands were rough, working man's hands, and for just a brief moment she imagined what it would feel like for him to run his hands up her body, up her flat, aching stomach, up her ribs to her breasts, cupping them fully and forcefully. She wanted him to.

She didn't know why she was reacting this way. She'd done hundreds of private dances in her employment, but maybe because it was Daryl's first dance, maybe because he just didn't know how these were supposed to go, it was invoking this reaction. That had to be it.

Mentally shaking the emotions curling down to her toes, she flashed him her signature smile. His eyes met hers – blue and green melting into each other for just a moment, and all the uncertainly, the hesitancy, the insecurity that met her in those dark blue depths gripped her to her core. Her smile slipped, fading into something more genuine, softer.

She found him alluring.

She didn't want to look away.

Shakily sucking in her breath, letting a gasp shudder through her, she ground into him again, her eyes searching. Searching for some sign he wanted her. Not just the usual lust-driven hunger that would settle for any piece of meat crossing his path, but something more intimate, personal. Did he want her too?

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her hips, his large hands, heavy and hot, trailing up her sides just as she imagined. She shuddered again, arching her back to push herself more against him. His breath came harder now, panting heavier, grasping more intensely. One hand still on her hip gripped tighter, as the other ghosted over her breasts, up her neck. She let her head drop back, a soft moan escaping her lips. She continued to grind into him, actually enjoying feeling the effect she had on him. She wanted his hand on her breast, she wanted him to flick and twist her nipples. She brought her face down to tell him, she wanted it so badly, when his fingers grazed her lips.

She paused her motions, surprised. No one touches a stripper's lips.

But she didn't just want his fingers on her lips.

He watched her closely, intently, those dark blue eyes staring her down. They were so dark now, diluted, deep, and black. He didn't pressure her to move, just watched her. Her breathing came heavily now, panting with an ache she'd never felt before- not even from before she was stripping. No crush, no boyfriend, no one had ever made her feel this incredibly sexy and powerful and wanting all at once.

And the way he looked at her. Like she was beautiful and significant. Something worthy of being cherished. Like he's never seen anything like her before. She had seen looks like that before- on other people, for other people. Never for her.

His hand lifted to almost grace her face, but dropped to his lap, and she found herself disappointed. She watched it fall, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

"How much a kiss gonna cost me?" His voice was deeper than before, huskier.

She blinked in surprise. "I don't sell kisses, Daryl. I only sell dances."

He studied her again.

"Come on, now. I ain't a fool. Ain't that part of your…" he trailed off, one hand combing through his hair in frustration, "hell, I dunno. Business?"

Candace slid off his lap, sitting herself on the table in front of him. She could be offended by his question, but it was a fair one.

"For some, yes." She sighed, looking down. "I could never…" She sighed again, heavier, wishing she could take back this whole conversation. "I don't…" She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes for him to understand, she's not that kind of girl. "I won't. It doesn't matter how bad off I get with bills." She took a shaky breath. "I may not live well, but I have to live with myself, you know?" She said, hoping to make him understand. Needing to make him understand. "It's never like this…" she finished, looking right into him.

"This?" He questioned gruffly, refusing to look at her, determinedly studying the floor. Her heart sank further.

"Two-sided?" She half said, half asked in a quiet breathy voice, barely trusting herself to let the words out. She let the question hang a moment, before scooting off the table to his right. "I'm sorry! I should never have said- I am an idiot, huh? You probably want to get back to your brother, and I'll have the bartender get y'all another round!" She chattered, hiding her sudden insecurities. The music that had faded in the background while she and Daryl had been in another world came slamming back, pulsating through her even harder than before.

She went to leave but his hand on her wrist stopped her.

He didn't say anything, just looked at her. She bit her lip, casting her eyes around, down, anywhere but his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words so he just let her go.

She wanted to say something, but knew she had said enough. She was a stripper, and no matter what she imagined happened between them, she knew it never was true. She made a living off of pretending to be into people she wasn't.

The moment gone, they both stepped out from the private booth, the muggy air, poor lighting, and thuds of the base in the music coming all rushing back. She went to the bar, he went to his table.

"Woo, boy. In there for quite a bit! How was little sugartits?" He winked.

Daryl snarled at his brother, slumping further into his seat, taking the beer Merle had ordered for him while waiting for him to come back. "Shut up, Merle." He snapped, eyes blazing. Merle smirked but, for once, didn't say a word, letting his little brother stew in his own dark thoughts.

The brothers stayed till close, and all the while, Daryl stared.

And that's all for chapter one folks! Don't worry I'll dive into the Zombie times soon enough. It's really important for the story that you understand Candace and Daryl's relationship as it unfolded, what had happened before the world went to shit, and where things were. It'll probably be another 2 chapters of pre-zombie stuff. Then it's going to jump into prison times – no going through seasons 1 & 2 and junk since she wouldn't be in it. This story is NOT really about their relationship before, quite the contrary. It's about, as the summary said, everything that happens when they find each other again. About finding out the whole story. I just need for you to understand where things left off… And it's a fun ride there but only 2 chapters more at most!

Most things will unfold as cannon, but if I were to retype all that stuff, it'd make for a pretty pointless story as you could just watch the tv show and enjoy Daryl in person. Yum! So I'll make a few creative changes to the original plot and let y'all know in advance!

Till next time

-Lana