AN Okay, this is my first TWD story, and I don't think its started off bad. Of course, I have a bad track record with keeping up with my stories, but hopefully my passion for this show will drive me. There will probably be several grammar and/ or spelling mistakes. I don't proof read at all. Look at me rabblin'. Ugh. Happy reading, hope you enjoy!

I do not own Walking Dead. Daryl would be mine.

There were dozens of things that could go wrong in a zombie apocalypse. Something as simple as one of their cars breaking down, forcing them to hijack a new one, to losing one of their own to any number of things.

She had learned to accept that life was never going back to normal - at least not during her life. She had come to terms with that long ago.

But this... this was a whole new page in her fucked up life. No, page didn't quite cover how fucked up this was. This was a new chapter, blinding her to all the things she had learned to life for. Everything seemed dim, dull, worthless. Life wasn't worth living anymore.

Not even for him.

She had every reason to end her life now. Every damn reason. No one would blame her for choosing the easy way out. Hell, they would probably be jumping from joy in a matter of minutes. One less mouth to feed. One less ass to cover. One less person to worry about. Every reason

They needed her share of food now that the baby had come along. The poor thing was skinand bones already. That was her fault. Her fault for consuming the life giving food that Lori needed to nurse the baby.

Such a damn good reason to end it all now. Give one old, tired life for a fresh, new life.

But, in reality, she was beling completekly selfish in her reasons. This was all for her. So she didn't have to life this miserable life anymore. All the other excuses were vain attempts at shifting the blame onto someone that did not deserve it. All she wanted was a normal life. She had never gotten the chance to experience a single day of it. It just wasn't fair.

YaM

She hugged her knees to her chest in the dim room, the gun dangling from her fingers. Was this something she could do? Was she strong enough, brave enough, noble enough to take her own life and leave her few worldly possessions to someone else that needed them?

Maybe she should just take off into the woods; fall prey to something out there.

The door opened quietly, and she tensed, fearing he was back for round two. Or was it four? She wasn't sure - it all ran together. All a big black mess, begging to be forgotten. Maybe she would die during this, and she wouldn't have to worry about offing herself. There was no way her body could stand the abuse he dealt out any longer. It was too weak. Her spirit was too weak. She would give out this time. If she didn't die from it this time, maybe they would put a bullet through her skull out of pity. That would be okay.

The hand that landed on her shoulder was rough, calloused, but gentle, and she knew immediately which man of the group it was. The only one that showed any interest in her well-being. The only one that seemed to care.

But she didn't want him there. Any second, he would notice the gun hanging from her hand. She didn't want him to see her life this. He had his own rough hand to deal with, and he didn't need to be worrying about her as well. He deserved someone that wasn't broken. Someone that could handle themself somewhere other than the kitchen. Like the bedroom. He deserved someone like Andrea. She would be good for him. Nice, strong spirit. Pretty. Young. Deserving.

"The hell a doin' with that?" he questioned. She didn't - couldn't - look at him. She was afraid of what she would see in those eyes. Afraid she would lose what little resolve she had built up and back out. She couldn't do that to him. His life would be so much easier without worrying if she was okay. He could go on, and survive through this. Grow old, and die normally, without the fear of turning into a monster.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. Funny. She thought she had cried herself out. There was no way her body could continue to produce them. Now way. She was far too dehydrated.

She sighed as they followed the trails left by the tears cried not long ago. "You know, Daryl," she whispered. He heard though. She knew the second his hand tightened on her shoulder. But she knew he wouldn't stop her, not if it was what she really wanted.

"Why?" It was odd to hear his gruff voice so quiet, so... soft and caring. Suddenly, his knees were in her view, the his chest, and finally his face. The handsome, gloriously male face she sought out in a room full of people.

Her body rocked with sudden, feirce sobs, and he awkwardly drew her into him, patting her back like he didn't have a damn clue what he was doing. He probably didn't.

"I can't do it anymore. I c-can't. Today showed me that. I can't do it. I just can't. I'm not meant for this kind of life. Everyone would be better off without me. You would be better off without m-" he cut her words off with a hand over his mouth. She could still smell the blood from his last kill on his skin, but it was all him - all man.

"Ya don't get ta fuckin' tell me what's best fer me. I tell ya what's best fer me. Yer life's what's best fer me. You die, I die. I'm not stayin' in this crazy fucked up world without ya. So make the choice right now, Carol. Yer life an' mine, its up ta you."

He never said her name.